


How to Deal

by mailroomorder



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Angst, College, Community: glee_angst_meme, Community: glee_kink_meme, First Time, Fraternities & Sororities, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mailroomorder/pseuds/mailroomorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt meets Blaine in a University English class, he doesn't expect to become such good friends with him-especially because he's a Brother in a University frat. But how come when Blaine looks at him there's always a sparkle in his eyes? And how come Kurt always gets special treatment at the frat? It's just because they're best friends...right? Based off a prompt on the GKM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of this would have been possible without my awesome beta Ashley. I can't thank you enough for kicking my butt in gear, fixing all of my improper cAPitaliZaTionS, and telling me that Kurt has a 'waist,' not a 'waste.' Also, I own nothing: no characters, no situations, no shitty beer...not even a refrigerator. As always, be kind, please rewind!
> 
> Rebloggable on [Tumblr](http://mailroomorder.tumblr.com/post/50691140151/how-to-deal)

               

               “Kurt, _please._ ” Samantha begs, hands clasped in front of her, clearly one second away from groveling at his knees.

                “Sammi, I don’t even think they’d let me in. I’m kind of admittedly flaming.” Kurt continues to rifle through the drawer, looking for an appropriate shirt for Mercedes to wear out tonight.

                “They totally will, Kurt! And we’ll pay for you. We promise.” Sammi really is not going to let this go.

                “Listen. I’d rather just go to Mark’s party. House parties are more fun anyway. And chances are I’ll actually meet a homo there.” At least he’s hoping he will. He pauses with a red blouse in his hands, deciding if it will go with Mercedes’ jeans, and adds as an afterthought, “And I won’t sweat as much.”

                “So how about this; you come to the frat for like, an hour. And we’ll pay for you! And if you don’t like it then you can ditch us for Mark’s. Deal?” Mercedes asks, sitting on her bed in nothing but a bra and a pair of pants.

                Kurt really doesn’t want to spend his Friday night in a frat house on the other side of campus. His friend Mark is a junior and lives off campus. He’s twenty-one and buys Kurt liquor, and his roommate Tom is gay. So he knows that he’ll have a better chance of finding someone to dance with and make out with than he will with a bunch of freshman at a frat.

                “And if they don’t let me in?” He asks.

                “Why wouldn’t they let you in?”

                “Because, Mercedes, not only am I queerer than a two dollar bill, but do you know how many times last year my friends and I were told that they weren’t letting any more boys in?” He throws the red blouse at Mercedes. “I think this should work. Try it.”

                “Okay,” Samantha amends, “then if they are at full male capacity we let you leave.”

                “…and I walk a mile and a half to Mark’s house alone. Or I can just go to Mark’s house now and catch a bus! Or walk a shorter distance. Yeah no. I choose Mark’s.”

                “Please, Kurt. Please. Just give it a shot. You haven’t been to a frat in forever and we haven’t hung out in forever and we just really want to party together tonight.” Samantha actually _is_ now on her knees groveling. And Kurt pauses for a second staring at her while he decides what to do. He really does miss partying with Sammi and Mercedes, but he’d rather party with them in their dorm or at a house party. He can’t stand frats, and he really was hoping to have fun tonight and let loose.

                But then Samantha throws his one weakness in his face. “If you come to the frat tonight, I’ll give you my half-filled bottle of tequila…for free.”

                “Fuck. I hate you.” Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose, and Samantha knows she’s just won the battle. “Fine. Fine. I’m in. Fuck. Ugh. Now I have to go change.”

                “You do not have to change,” Mercedes says while rolling her eyes.

                “No, I’m pretty sure I need to change. I’m wearing white. You never wear white to a frat party.”

                “Alright. Go upstairs and change. Meet us back here ASAP so we can start pregaming.”

                Kurt leaves the girls in Samantha’s dorm room and grabs the elevator up a few flights so he can change. When he gets to his room Mike is still there, getting ready to go out himself.

                “Back again?” Mike asks.

                “Yeah. Change of plans. Going to a frat now. Wanted to change.”

                “Ah. Gotcha. Which one? I think I’m headed over to SAE tonight.”

                “Not sure. Probably whichever one lets me in.” Kurt unbuttons his white Oxford and trades it in for a tight fitted blue t-shirt. It’s comfortable and looks good on him, and it won’t make him stand out too much from the beer-guzzling eighteen year olds in graphic tees. He wishes he could dress it up a bit somehow, but he doesn’t bother. There isn’t going to be anyone he needs to impress and he doesn’t want to ruin anything nice anyway. He figures wearing khakis will make it look nicer, although he’s already bemoaning how dirty they will be after he gets beer spilled on them—an inevitability at a college frat party.

                But he sucks it up and heads downstairs, ready to pregame with his two best friends. He’s contemplating not sharing his newly acquired tequila with either of them. He figures he is going to need as much of it as he can get.

 

* * *

 

                They are stumbling through campus and making their way to Frat Row, arms linked and laughing, and Kurt actually feels pretty good. He’s smiling and laughing and he has a good drunk going on. He’s not exactly looking forward to shitty beer, but he knows the tequila will last a while. His muscles are loose and he just wants to dance. He knows that he probably won’t feel the same once he gets into the party and sees how nasty the place is and how terrible the music is, but for now he refuses to think about it.

                When they get to Frat Row it is filled with freshman. The girls are dressed slutty, in high heels and short shirts, and the boys are just in jeans and t-shirts.

                They start with the first house, but they won’t let Kurt in—said they weren’t letting any guys in. But as the trio walks away he sees the freshman pledge, doubling as a bouncer, letting two more guys in. He shakes his head and walks to the next house. There is a bit of a line, so the three of them just wait.

                As they make their way to the front of the line, feeling hopeful that boys are being let in, Kurt goes to grab his wallet. He knows that Sammi said she’d pay for him, but he can’t in his good conscience let her do it. The girls are in front of him and they get their hands stamped and are told to go on in. Kurt pulls a five out and goes to pay when the door opens and a few guys walk out.

                “Hey. Put that money away, you!” A voice says. Kurt doesn’t realize that it’s referring to him, but the pledge brother who is supposed to take his money doesn’t, so Kurt looks up and sees Blaine. “Your money’s no good here. Boys, let him in for free. Always let him in for free.” Blaine is smiling and obviously a bit drunk. Kurt puts the money back in his wallet and goes to walk inside and meet his friends who are probably already at the bar getting their beer. Blaine throws his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and squeezes.

                “Long time no see, partner!”

                “Blaine, we were partners like a month ago…for a day.” Kurt shakes his head, but lets Blaine keep his arm around him, a little confused as to why a boy in his class whom he rarely talks to is letting him into his frat for free.

                “Yes, but it was the best day ever!” Blaine moves his arm to Kurt’s lower back and pushes him in front so they can walk through the door. “Hey, over here,” he says, leading Kurt towards the bar. “I’ll grab you a beer. They don’t really give them out to guys very often anyway.”

                When a Natty Light is thrust into his hand Kurt pops the tab and clinks it with Blaine’s. “Cheers,” he says, and drinks up. It tastes like piss water, but he’s too drunk to really care. And he really doesn’t want to sober up. He’s starting to remember why he stopped going to frat parties after becoming a sophomore.

                The dance floor is the most slippery place in the entire world. He cannot even comprehend how people can move on that floor and dance without slipping and falling. The front room that houses the bar isn’t much better. Frat pledges are behind the bar handing out beer to every girl that comes by, and the occasional boy. Blaine lets them know that they should always give Kurt a beer. After they down about half of their beers and grab a second for later, Blaine starts walking towards a side room, waving for Kurt to follow along.

                This room is smaller and houses a long table filled with Red Solo Cups.

                “The Beer Pong Room,” Blaine explains.

                “Ah, yes.” Kurt nods.

                “Kurt and I get next round.” Blaine drags Kurt to one end of the table before whispering in his ear, “This is the best side to play on.”

                They wait in the corner while the other teams finish up, talking idly but mostly just drinking their beers and watching the game in front of them. There are about ten people packed into the room. Four of them are playing, the other ones are waiting for their turn or watching their buddies. Kurt hasn’t played beer pong in a _long_ time, but he knows that the trick is that the drunker you are the better you are. So when his second beer nears empty he decides to grab another one.

                “I’m gonna grab another beer. Want one?” He asks Blaine, who nods. Kurt leaves the room and goes up to the bar. He’s expecting to have to wait a bit for the girls to be served and for the one pledge that Blaine talked to to show up and give him a beer. But the minute he gets there the guy behind the bar hands him a beer without question. Kurt’s surprised and figures that he’s just lucky enough to be the one guy they actually give booze to. He doesn’t want to press his luck, but he knows that Blaine wants a drink. So he moves a bit closer to the bar and waves for the guy’s attention.

                “Can I get one more for my buddy? He’s a brother here.” Kurt figures he mine as well mention that, assumes it will give him a leg up. The guy hands him another one before turning away from the few other guys that are waiting by the bar and going back to handing out beer to girls. Kurt’s too drunk to find this weird. He just considers himself lucky.

                He looks around quickly to see if he can find his friends but he can’t, so he assumes they’re on the dance floor or making out with a boy in a corner. He hasn’t gotten a text from either of them, so he knows that they haven’t gone home with someone yet.

                When he gets back to the Beer Pong Room, as it is apparently aptly named, Blaine is standing right where he left him, chatting amiably with someone else. When they look up and see Kurt, the guy just nods his head and walks away.

                “Just in time,” Blaine smiles, “we’re about to be up!” His excitement is palpable, and Kurt just laughs and hands him a beer.

 

* * *

 

                They’ve been playing for about fifteen minutes, Kurt has already finished his third beer and is well into his fourth, and they _suck_. They actually suck at Beer Pong. Who even thought that was possible? They’ve only managed to knock out a meager three cups, while the other team only has four cups left.

                Blaine takes his shot and misses wildly, laughing and drinking more of his beer.

                “I can’t believe this. I have never played so bad. Kurt! Kurt! You have to believe me!” He smiles and laughs and pokes Kurt’s sides and Kurt just squirms and slaps Blaine’s arm.

                “Oh my God, Blaine. PULL YOUR WEIGHT! You’ve only gotten one cup!” Kurt feels really good, really loose, and he’s never been so physical with someone while in a frat. Especially someone he doesn’t even know very well. Especially a _boy_. Especially a _brother._ But Blaine doesn’t seem to care since he’s the one that’s always poking and patting Kurt on the sides and the shoulders.

                The other team knocks another cup out, and now it’s Kurt’s turn. He decides to go for the solo cup standing in the front, not surrounded by any others. He’s drunk and feeling ambitious when he calls, “Island.” He takes his time and aims, then when he goes to throw Blaine pats his back causing him to lose focus and just chuck the ball. It bounces off the table while Kurt screams indignantly at Blaine and slaps him on the back of the head. “YOU IDIOT!” But the ball bounces right into the Island cup before the other team can bat it away.

                “Ohmygod KURT. You did it you did it you did it!” And Blaine is on him, hugging him tight and bouncing up and down. “You get to pick another cup to get rid of,” he declares, and Kurt just picks one at random.

                “Game on, bitches,” he says, before turning to Blaine and telling him that he better pick up his weight.

                They end up losing the game, but neither of them really cares. They are drunk and happy, and to celebrate their epic loss, as Blaine calls it, they decide to head over to the dance floor. They run into Samantha and Mercedes, who are both grinding with guys, and they somehow all end up in a circle dancing.

                “Happy you stayed more than an hour?” Sammi screams across the circle. Blaine looks at him oddly, brows furrowing in question, but Kurt doesn’t notice. He just nods his head and goes, “I’ve never actually had real fun at a frat party before!” He’s smiling and looking at Blaine, who’s smiling back.

                “Next time we’ll win! I promise.”

Kurt just laughs before replying, “Not with your skills.” Blaine laughs harder and pokes him in the sides causing Kurt to bend and laugh and spin and turn to try and get out of Blaine’s grasp. They’re both laughing, and when they catch their breaths and turn back to the group they realize that they’re alone.

“Hey! They left us!” Kurt’s a bit affronted. But he doesn’t have much time to wallow because Blaine just grabs his wrist and pulls him in closer.

“Oh well. Just us. Let’s dance!” Kurt takes a small step back, feeling like he’s too close to Blaine but ultimately not caring. There’s not a lot of room anyway, so they are still standing close, bodies not touching but occasionally hands and arms graze against each other. They are moving and jiving to the music when Kurt gets a text informing him that Mercedes and Sammi are leaving. He texts back, _hold up. I’ll meet you out front._

Mercedes texts back and says, _no way, cowboy. You’re having fun. Stay with Blaine ; )_

Blaine leans closer, puts his hands on both of Kurt’s shoulders, and says right into Kurt’s ear, “Something wrong?”

“Nope. The girls just left.”

Blaine’s face falls. “I guess you’re leaving, too?” It comes out sounding like a question. But Kurt just shakes his head and says, “I can stay.”

 “Awesome,” Blaine exclaims, face lighting up and grabbing Kurt’s wrists so they can dance some more.  It’s hot and humid, and Kurt can feel himself sweating. Blaine’s normally maintained curly hair is frizzing out, and Kurt can’t help but think he looks good when he throws caution to the wind and lets himself go. They stay on the dance floor for another half hour before Kurt tells him he has to pee. He starts walking towards the bathroom when Blaine grabs his wrist again and leads him to the stairs.

“Those are so nasty. Use the brothers’ one upstairs. It’s cleaner.” Blaine leads the way upstairs and around the corner, and Kurt is surprised to find that the upstairs bathroom is actually pretty well maintained. When he’s done, he starts to make his way back downstairs but Blaine seems a bit dejected.

“You okay?” Kurt asks him. But Blaine just smiles and nods, following Kurt back down.

It’s almost two in the morning and the party is clearing up. Kurt’s starting to sober up and he doesn’t really feel like dancing anymore, but he’s not quite sure how to tell Blaine that, who seems to be hanging onto him like a sad puppy, afraid to leave his owner.

Kurt just fiddles with his hands in front of him before telling Blaine that he thinks he’s just going to head home.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s late. I had fun tonight though.”

“I’m glad,” Blaine smiles. “Me too.”

“So I’ll see you in class this week.” Blaine just nods, looking a bit sad, and Kurt turns his back and walks through the front door.

* * *

 

                “You want to come again this Friday?” Blaine asks Kurt in their shared English class. He’s sitting next to Kurt, which is a new thing. He normally sits a few seats away from Kurt or in the row behind him.

                “I don’t think so. I try not to frequent frats.”

                “But you had fun! I proved to you that frats can totally be fun!” Blaine’s entire body is now facing Kurt.

                “Hey! I never said that frats couldn’t be fun. I just am not a big fan of them.” Kurt tries not to blush when he sees how earnest Blaine’s expression is.

                “Well maybe I can change your mind.”

                Kurt guffaws. “Yeah. Right.”

                “Please?” Blaine whines, and when Kurt doesn’t answer he starts to pout.

                “I can’t. Don’t look at me like that! I can’t.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I am planning a prison break Friday night. Gotta bust out my drug dealer. He was sent there after bashing in a frat boy’s head when he wouldn’t pay off his tab. But I’m kind of getting the shakes. Haven’t had a hit of crack in a while.”

                Blaine laughs out loud and shakes his head. “You’re something else, you know that?” Kurt gets caught up in this twinkle that he swears he sees in Blaine’s eyes, and falters with his response. “Any way I can join you?” Blaine adds, eyebrows lifted towards his hairline.

                “You any good with picking locks? Kurt responds seriously, leaning his head on his hand.

                “No. But I am really good at charming security guards.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind.” Kurt turns back towards the front of the room, Blaine still looking at him.

                “Is that a no to the party then?” Blaine asks, trying to sound like it doesn’t matter. He’s playing with his pen, twirling it between his fingers.

                “Sorry, Blaine. I can’t this weekend.”

                Blaine can’t reply before their Professor calls class to order. There isn’t any group work today, so they don’t get to talk the rest of class. When the Professor dismisses them, Kurt rushes out so he can get to his next class on time.

* * *

 

                That Friday instead of going to the frat party like Blaine wanted, Kurt gets ready to go to Mark’s. He dresses a bit nicer than he did for the frat party: dark wash jeans, boots, and a red button up with the top few buttons undone. He’s been to Mark’s parties before and they are a lot of fun. It’s a strange melting pot of people. Kurt met Mark in a theatre class last year, so there’s often quite a few of them scattered around the party. But Mark’s one roommate Tom is gay and an Engineering major, so there’s also always a few gay people there who are not into theatre as well as some intellectuals who like to have fun. Their third roommate smokes a lot of pot and always invited his weird hipster friends who like to do shrooms and talk Philosophy, but they’re usually relegated to the outside porch. All in all, it’s a really fun and welcoming place to be.

                He shows up with a cheap bottle of wine that Mark bought him a few days ago and heads over to the kitchen to pop the cork open when he runs into Mark.

                “Look who finally made it! Haven’t seen you around one of these shindigs in a while man!” Kurt struggles with the cork, but when he finally gets it off he cheers and tosses it into the ever-growing pile of corks that Mark and his roommates collect. He then goes to hug Mark, who already seems to have a nice buzz going on.

                “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

                “Well, don’t be a stranger. We all missed you here,” he remarks, while opening to fridge to grab himself a Blue Moon. “Come on. We’re all in the living room.”

                The living room is small and carpeted. The dining room table is moved over to the end and is currently being used as a place to put empty bottles and cans. A few people are dancing, a few people are hanging out on the couches and chairs on the other side of the room talking. Kurt follows Mark over to the sitting area and they sit down together on an empty bean bag chair.

                “So did you ever memorize that monologue?” Mark asks.

                “Of course I did. We have a run through on Monday.”

                “You over-achiever, you!” Mark smiles.

                A few other people come in and within minutes the party goes from tame to wild. People are laughing and screaming and singing along to music, and Mark gets up to make out with his girlfriend. Kurt stays in the bean bag chair and takes the whole atmosphere in. This is where he belongs, he thinks. In a room full of nobodies then everybody is somebody.

                He gets up and meanders over to a few of his friends to say hi. When they see him coming they all scream in excitement.

                “Kurt! I haven’t seen you in forever!” His friend Sam screams and tackles him in a big man hug. He’s more muscular than Kurt, and Kurt can hardly breathe for a second when Sam squeezes him tight. “What have you been up to?”

                “Just classes and work. A few parties here and there.”

                “Well stop avoiding us. And let’s grab lunch soon.”

                “Absolutely.”

                Kurt’s hugging his friend Andrea when Sam claps him on the back and says, “By the way, this is my friend Jason.” Jason waves at Kurt and smiles, muttering a small hello.

                They all stand in a circle and catch up, and when Outkast’s _Hey Ya_ comes on everyone goes crazy dancing. More people join in and soon enough half the party is jammed in the living room dancing. Jason comes up to Kurt and tries to catch his eye.

                “You wanna dance?” He asks timidly. Jason is tall. Taller than Kurt and a bit more muscular, but still very lean. He has light brown hair that sometimes seems more dirty blonde when the light hits it a certain way. Kurt didn’t realize he was gay, but he’s pretty glad he is because he is wine drunk and just wants to dance with someone. So instead of saying yes he pulls Jason in closer and starts to dance. They’re practically grinding, touching chest to knees and moving back and forth. When a new song comes on Jason wraps his arms around Kurt’s hips, ensuring that Kurt won’t go anywhere. Not that Kurt wants to. He feels safe in this embrace. He looks up at Jason and smiles. Jason just looks down and kisses him, right on the mouth. It’s light—just a peck. But Kurt smiles into it and pushes back a bit before looking down and blushing. They’re still dancing and moving to the music and Kurt loves this feeling.

                He’s at a party with his friends, he’s drinking shitty wine and feeling good, and he’s grinding face to face with a guy and nobody cares. Not a single person gives a fuck. He and Jason may be the only gay couple on the dance floor right now, but he doesn’t feel like he’s standing out in a crowd. He just feels like himself.

                After a few more songs he looks up at Jason and asks, “Wanna sit on the couch?” It’s a thinly veiled request at a make-out session, and Kurt knows he isn’t fooling Jason, but he doesn’t _want_ to fool Jason.

                “Yeah,” Jason replies, and they stop dancing and tangle their fingers together as they make their way over to the couch. People are sitting there talking and drinking and laughing, and Kurt doesn’t want to be that asshole who turns the couch into the make-out-couch, so he grabs the bean bag chair and moves it into the corner behind the TV and plops down, Jason following close behind.

                They rearrange themselves so Kurt is partly on top of Jason, his legs over Jason’s lap.

                “Hi.” Kurt smiles up at Jason, who looks adoringly back at him.

                “Hey yourself.” They sit there looking at each other for a few seconds before Kurt puts his hand on the back of Jason’s head and moves in for a kiss. It starts slowly, Kurt not wanting it to be an ugly, drunk kiss. Their lips slide over each other’s until Jason deepens it, lightly caressing his tongue with Kurt’s. They stay like that for a while, just lightly making out while everyone parties around them. Jason nips at Kurt’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan out of him, before thrusting his tongue into Kurt’s mouth. Finding the position a bit uncomfortable, Kurt moves his legs so he is straddling Jason.

                “This okay?” He asks.

                Instead of responding Jason runs his hands up and down Kurt’s sides, smiles, and nods shyly, then goes in for a chaste kiss that once again turns deeper.

                They’re just sitting there on the bean bag chair in the corner, partially obstructed by the TV, when Kurt feels something hit the back of his head.

                “Hey. Hey, you two. Knock it off. That’s my bean bag chair you’re sitting on!” Tom keeps pelting what appears to be Cheese Curls at Kurt’s head until Kurt and Jason break down laughing, leaning their foreheads against each other’s.

                “It was fun while it lasted,” Kurt sighs, cheeks bright red and lips plump. “Come on, let’s dance.” He stands up, legs a bit unsteady, before holding his hand out to Jason who grabs it without question. They head over to the dance floor ignoring Tom’s muted cries over the purity of his favorite chair, and spend the rest of the night dancing close. They leave some space in between them, and when they part at the front porch, each heading in different directions, Jason kisses his cheek and says, “Any chance I’ll see you here again?”

                “I’d say there’s a pretty big chance,” Kurt responds, looking Jason right in the eye.

* * *

 

                Saturday afternoon he meets Samantha for lunch at this crappy, greasy Chinese take-out place. They grab their To-Go containers and walk to the park down the street where they snag one of the few open tables and begin to eat. It’s quiet for a bit while they just take in the scenery.

                “So how was your night?” Kurt starts.

                “It was good. Went to the frats. Met a guy. Invited him over.” She twirls some Lo Mein around a fork while she speaks. Kurt just quirks an eyebrow at her.

                “What? I wasn’t going to do a walk of shame. I feel like I’m too old for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure the point of having a single dorm is so I can invite the guy to my place.” She shoves a forkful of food in her mouth.

                “No judgment here. I’m just hoping he wasn’t a freshman.”

                “Oh God no. He was a sophomore. And before you ask, no, he isn’t in a frat.”

                “So are you going to see him again?” Kurt asks, taking a sip from his water bottle.

                “No. We didn’t exchange numbers or anything.”

                “Can you at least share the dirty details?” Kurt asks with a wicked grin, placing his head on his hands and staring longingly at Sammi.

                “Hahaha. Fine. But only because I love you.” She takes one more bite of food before pushing it aside to talk to Kurt. “His name was Max…I think. He’s a sophomore. The sex was actually pretty good. We weren’t too drunk. I didn’t blow him but he really wanted me to. I told him I’d only blow him if he went down on me. He didn’t want to do that, which, to be honest, I was happy about. But it also meant I didn’t have to suck him off. It was just plain ol’ vaginal sex. He left in the morning.”

                “Oooh, exciting!” Kurt replies. Eating some more lemon chicken. “Going out again tonight?”

                “I think I’m gonna head back to the frats. I don’t know. You?”

                “Not sure. I want to get some homework done today.”

                “How was Mark’s last night?”

                “It was good. Made out with a guy. I had fun.”

                “A guy, you say?! Gonna ever see him again?” She asks, using the same tone Kurt used previously.

                “Maybe. He said he goes to Mark’s parties occasionally. Or that he’ll come back. He’s a friend of Sam’s.”

“Which Sam? Boy Sam?”

“One and the same.”

Kurt finishes off his chicken and grabs his and Samantha’s containers so he can take them to the trash bin. When he gets back to the table he looks at Samantha and motions for her to follow him.

                “Come on. I want to lay out on the grass. Weather won’t be this nice for a while.”

                They spend about an hour just relaxing on the grass and talking.

                “Text me if you want to go out tonight?” Sammi asks before they leave. “I know you’re not a frat boy, but it may be better than just staying in.”

                “Yeah yeah. We’ll see how much work I get done.” They separate with a hug and a promise to text each other later.

* * *

 

                Kurt doesn’t exactly expect to give in to Sammi so easily. But it’s ten-thirty at night and he has found himself walking with her towards Frat Row for the second time in two weeks, pleasantly buzzed but not at all drunk enough to take on the throngs of horny freshman boys and their equally horny female counterparts.

                “Oh God, why am I doing this?!” He exclaims while shaking his head. He runs in front of Sam and does a little dance in the street, shaking his hips. “Come on, Sexy Mama. Let’s get our frat dance on!”

                When they show up to the frat houses they start walking towards the one that Sam went to last night, but at the last minute she decides that she’d rather go someplace else. “Going to the same frat twice in one week can’t be good. Come on.” She gestures towards a different house and they walk towards it.

                There isn’t much of a line, but the minute they get there the pledge brother-turned-bouncer looks at Kurt and says, “You can go in.” He stamps their hands and opens the door immediately, motioning them inside.

                “That was weird right? Did we just get celebrity treatment at a frat?!” Kurt asks Sammi, voice low.

                “ _We_ did not, good sir. _You_ , however, did.” She pats him on the shoulder before grabbing his arm and heading towards the bar.

                “But why would I get special treatment? Flaming homo, remember?”

                “Uh, maybe because Blaine is a brother at this frat?” Her voice is oozing with sarcasm, as if Kurt should know the answer to the question without having had to ask it.

                “Yeah but why does that matter?” They reach the bar and Samantha goes to grab a beer for her and Kurt, knowing that as a woman she can get as many beers as she wants, but as a man Kurt most likely won’t be able to get any.

                But when the brother behind the bar sees Kurt, he whispers something to his friend beside him and puts a beer down in front of Kurt before handing one to Sammi.

                Sammi laughs, high pitched, and looks Kurt right in the eyes before saying, “It clearly matters. Star treatment, Hummel. Star. Treatment.” She punctuates her words with a lip smack before going off into the crowd.

                “Hey! Where are you going?!” Kurt screams after her. But there’s no point because she’s already too far to hear him over the loud crowd and the even louder music. He’s not sure what to do next, but he knows that standing around alone by the bar is just lame, and going out onto the dance floor of a frat alone is even more lame, so he decides to head over to the small side room Blaine showed him last week and see if maybe he can get in a game of beer pong.

                There’s already a game going on when he gets there, but he assumed there would be. He really just wants to get away from the throngs of people. He goes to stand over in a corner, feeling weird because he doesn’t know anybody. The guy he passes nods at him and raises his beer in a salute. Kurt does the same before taking a sip. He sees the guy whisper to someone standing next to him, and the kid immediately walks out of the room. Kurt hopes that it’s not something he did, or worse, because of something he _is_ , but no one here is being rude to him, so he just assumes it was a pledge being forced to do something.

                He waits there for a few more minutes, no one coming up to him, but no one really ignoring him at the same time. There’s plenty of banter going on around him, and he enjoys hearing it all. People are making fun of the losing beer pong team, while the winning beer pong team gloats and laughs and drinks some more. Kurt’s in the middle of deciding whether he should step out of his shell and join the hubbub when he hears a voice coming at him.

                “Kurt! You came back!” He looks up just in time to see Blaine come barreling at him, hugging him tight and close before letting him go. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charm!” Blaine smiles easily and looks Kurt right in the eye. It’s personal, a bit more personal than Kurt was expecting and he doesn’t quite know how to handle himself, so he blushes a bit and nods, giving a little half smile.

                “Kurt and I have next game,” Blaine declares. And no one moans or bitches that they just jumped in front of them in the beer pong line.

* * *

 

                “I swear, Kurt, next time we’ll win.” They’re outside on the back porch sitting on one of the picnic tables. There’s a few people outside smoking, a few others talking, but it’s much more quiet and peaceful out here, and Kurt is happy that Blaine brought them here after their game.

                “Yeah yeah. If there ever is a next time.” They’re sitting next to each other on top of the table, but are angled towards each other.

                Blaine nudges his shoulder with Kurt’s before leaning back on his hands and saying, “Well, maybe I keep losing so you have to come back and see me.” He blushes a bit, Kurt swears he sees it. And when he looks into Blaine’s eyes they are so earnest. He feels too hot all of the sudden, like there’s something wrong with the situation. He doesn’t understand why Blaine would want him to keep coming back to the frat.

                He’s not sure what to say or do next, so he scoots over a little bit, allowing more room between them. He doesn’t miss it when Blaine’s face falls and he sits up straighter, running his hands through his unkempt hair before laying them in his lap so he can lace them together, looking nervous and upset with himself. “Frats aren’t really my thing,” Kurt settles on. When he sees Blaine begin to fidget with his hands he wonders if maybe he said something wrong. He tries to think back on everything that just happened, but he can’t really remember if he said anything offensive. He decides to amend his previous statement by adding, “Not that I’m against them or anything. It’s cool that you’re in one!” It doesn’t have the desired effect he hoped it would have, but it does get Blaine to look at him. He looks sad though, and Kurt’s not sure why.

                “So I assume no more frats then?” Blaine asks, trying to make it come out like a light hearted statement but failing miserably.

                Kurt decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Blaine just wants to be friends.

                “Eh. I don’t know. I said that last time and look where it led me.” He smiles, and when Blaine looks up he is smiling, too.

                “I’m happy you came, Kurt.” Blaine looks directly at Kurt when he says it, losing eye contact only after he finishes saying it. He blushes a bit, as he realizes just how honest he is being.

                “I had fun tonight.”

                “So does that mean tonight is over?” Blaine asks.

                “Nah. It’s way too early for the night to end.” Kurt kicks out his legs in front of him, letting them dangle back and forth. He isn’t used to this side of their relationship. It is quieter and personal. Kurt is only ever used to talking to him occasionally in class about superficial subjects and bitching about their professor and assignments.

                Blaine shakes his head and straightens up a bit. He jumps off of the table and looks at Kurt, devilish smile back on his face, and announces, “Alright then, up and at ‘em, partner. We still have time before the sun goes down!”

                The awkwardness and closeness of their previous conversation having completely left, Kurt just laughs and stands up, pushing Blaine’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “The sun is already down, Blaine.”

                “Then I guess we’ll have to party until it comes back up!” Kurt chuckles and shakes his head, following Blaine back into the party.

                They spend the night playing more beer pong, dancing, and talking. They commandeer a love seat and talk about their favorite shows and movies, what their favorite bands are and their least favorite celebrities. It’s nothing like the last party, where they danced but kept each other at an emotional distance. Kurt is really connecting with Blaine. They have a lot of similar interests and ideas, and Kurt is surprised to find himself sad when the party ends and he has to go home.

                “Want me to walk you?” Blaine asks.

                “I couldn’t have you do that. I’m fine, Blaine. Thanks. No point in you leaving just to have to come back.” Blaine looks a bit confused, but Kurt pats him quickly on the shoulder and goes to leave.

                “See you in class,” he says, watching as Kurt walks away.

* * *

 

                Kurt spends his Sunday writing an essay. It’s not due until the end of the week, but he wants to get it done so it doesn’t hold him back. It’s not very long, only five pages, and he is able to finish it by dinner time. He heads to the dining hall alone and grabs some food, eating in a corner while watching some TV. When he heads back to his room he has nothing to do, and he finds himself reflecting on his night.

                He had a lot of fun at the frat—more fun this week than last week. He never realized how well he and Blaine get along, and he is sort of deciding that maybe this is a friendship that can grow and survive out of class and out of parties. He doesn’t want to seem too forward by asking Blaine to hang out, but he thinks that he could give it a try. He knows they would have something to talk about. He just hopes that it isn’t awkward once you remove the loud music and the alcohol. He also hopes that sober Blaine won’t shy away from him in public because he’s gay. He doesn’t _think_ that would happen; Blaine talks to him and even _dances_ with him in the frat. But still, it’s something that’s on his mind. He doesn’t know what Blaine’s frat’s stance is on LGBTQ rights.

                He can’t stop thinking about whether he should or should not initiate a relationship with Blaine outside of getting drunk together. And this is not a subject he is used to having to debate. He’s never been too hung up on the pros and cons of being friends with someone.

                Kurt groans and rolls over, shoving his head under his pillow and wills his brain to just shut up.

* * *

 

                Kurt has English three days a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So for less than an hour, three times a week, Kurt sees Blaine.

                The two weeks after the second time they party together, Blaine grabs the seat next to Kurt. Or, if he gets there before Kurt, places his bag on the chair next to him, only removing it when Kurt walks through the door. He’ll smile at Kurt, remove his bag, and indicate with his hand that Kurt should take the newly freed desk.

                They talk a lot before class, and their conversation moves from assignments to celebrity gossip to movies, and even ventures a bit into politics. Blaine always makes Kurt laugh, and it’s with this knowledge, that for two weeks they have continued to talk and laugh and smile together, that Kurt finally decides that on Friday he will see if Blaine wants to grab lunch with him after class. It’s the only day he doesn’t have another class after English, so he’s hoping Blaine doesn’t either.

                When he walks into class Blaine is already there, removing his backpack and smiling up at Kurt.

                “Okay, so please tell me you actually watched _Arrested Development_ this time. Please, Kurt. I just…I can’t keep talking to you if you haven’t.” Blaine is looking at him seriously, like the fate of their friendship actually depends on his one word answer.

                Kurt decides to play Blaine, looking at him straight in the eye, with a stern expression, before quoting perfectly, “I don’t understand the question, and I won’t respond to it.” He decides to throw in Lucille Bluth’s famous one eyed blink for added emphasis.

                Blaine’s face breaks out into the biggest smile Kurt has seen yet, and then Blaine actually shrieks and laughs and claps his hands in front of him like an over excited eight year old who was just told he has free range on a jungle gym.

                “You actually watched it! Oh my God, Kurt. YOU WATCHED IT!” He’s still bouncing up and down in his desk chair and smiling like a fool when Kurt cracks and allows himself to smile back.

                “Yes, I did. And you’re right. I love it.”

                “Okay, favorite character.”

                “Oh definitely Lucille. Without a doubt. But I’m pretty sure I’m Lucille 2. But in male form.”

                Their professor starts talking, effectively bringing their conversation to a startling halt. But Blaine leans over and whispers, “You don’t have a choice. After class we’re grabbing lunch and discussing our favorite Tobias quotes.”

                Kurt smiles back fondly. “As if there’s anything else I’d rather be doing,” he remarks.

* * *

 

                They don’t go to dining hall. It’s a sunny Friday afternoon, and Blaine asks if he’d be down with grabbing something somewhere to-go, and eating outside in the park at one of the tables. Kurt has absolutely no problem with this.

                They head over to Panera and each grab a sandwich and a bag of chips, talking about how classes are going. When they get to the park Blaine leads them over to an empty table under a tree, offering Kurt the seat that’s mostly in the shade.

                “So, how far did you get?” He starts.

                “In _Arrested Development?_ ” Kurt asks, but Blaine’s nodding before he can even finish the sentence. He starts taking his sandwich out of the bag and answers, “Not very. I haven’t even finished the first season. But in my defense, I only started it Wednesday after you bitched me out in class!” He takes a bite of his sandwich.

                “Hey. You deserved that bitching out,” Blaine responds.

                “But in the middle of class?” Kurt grins, trying to make Blaine feel bad.

                “Not my fault you have never seen the best show in the history of the world.”

                Kurt stares at Blaine a little longer than necessary before responding, “Well, I have now. And I plan on continuing.”

                Swallowing his last bite of sandwich, Blaine tells Kurt, “Well, if you ever want a TV partner to watch it with, you can always ask me. I’d be happy to come.” He sounds hopeful, and looks really earnest. Kurt just blushes and nods his head.

                “I might take you up on that,” he mutters.

                They continue talking about the TV show, munching on their chips, but it doesn’t last long before it turns into a discussion on how amazing Liza Minnelli is, which then turns into the pros and cons of being Judy Garland’s daughter.

                “Are you kidding me?! Of course I’d kill to be her daughter.” Blaine seems offended that Kurt even has to ask. “She’s _amazing_. God, just her talent alone. I can’t…I can’t even. Imagine growing up with Judy Garland singing you bed time lullabies and Happy Birthdays and Christmas carols. It would be amazing.” He sighs, eyes closing and body clumping as he actually imagines how his life could have been.

                “I’d rather be Liza’s best friend who’s always over at the house. Best of both worlds. I get to grow up with Judy, and Liza for that matter, but I have the added bonus of not having her amazingness ruined.”

                “How would her amazingness be ruined by being her daughter?!” Blaine asks, affronted.

                “First of all, Blaine, I’m pretty sure you’d be her son. Secondly, if I were the best friend and neighbor then Judy would still be this amazing celebrity who was also human. I’d know her more than other people, and I’d understand that she was just a person, but she’d still be this larger than life entity and not just my _mom_. Moms can be so uncool. I’d never want to be embarrassed by my mom. And moms _always_ embarrass their kids at some point,” he defends.

                “But Judy Garland would _never_ embarrass me.” Blaine replies, putting his hand on top of Kurt’s, ensuring that Kurt will listen, and understand the severity of what Blaine is trying to impart.

                Kurt just laughs and removes his hand from Blaine’s grip so he can throw a crumpled up clean napkin at Blaine’s face. “You’re so serious. You know this won’t ever happen right?”

                “Unfortunately I am all too aware of the fact that I will only ever be a friend of Judy, and never her daughter…or her son.” He lets out a big sigh, as if this thought plagues him badly. Kurt, however, nearly chokes on his own saliva.

                _Friend of Judy? Oh my God. Does he know what that means?!_

                It takes him a few seconds to stop staring at Blaine with his eyes wide open, but he eventually manages to calm down and stop choking on his spit.

                “Sorry,” he coughs. “Wrong tube.”

                “Hate when that happens,” Blaine supplies. “Anyway, any big plans tonight?”

                Kurt takes the shift in conversation as a blessing in disguise. He _so_ does not want to have to explain to Blaine what he just implied.

                “Yeah. My friend is having a party. You?”

                “Nope. None. Not a single plan. At all. For tonight.” Blaine’s fidgeting with his bottle of Coke and trying to look at Kurt, but his eyes never seem to be able to focus directly on him for longer than a second.

                “No frat party tonight?” Kurt asks, confused. Because it’s Friday and the frats are almost always open on Fridays.

                “Well yeah, there are some frat parties.”

                “And _your_ frat? Are they having a party?”

                “Yeah, but I don’t have to go this week.”

                “I didn’t know you had a choice.”

                “Yeah. I have a Little who we just accepted. And I’m there for him if he ever needs me. But I no longer need to actually go to the parties anymore. He’s able to be there without me. And let’s be real, frats aren’t always the most fun places to hang out at.”

                “So you do understand why I don’t like them!” Kurt jokes, throwing Blaine a blinding smile. “After all those times you tried to get me to come, you knew all along that they aren’t always fun.” Kurt shakes his head and snickers.

                “Yeah, but they’re fun when I’m there,” Blaine retorts.

                They both grab their trash to throw away, and when Kurt speaks next he does it without thinking.

                “You could come hang out with me tonight, if you want. My friend throws some pretty cool get togethers.” He almost regrets it as soon as he says it. But Blaine responds immediately, smiling and looking directly at Kurt as if Kurt has just offered him the world.

                “I’d love that,” he says, before grabbing Kurt’s upper arm and squeezing it.

They stand by the trash can for just a second longer, still touching and looking at each other, before Kurt ducks his head and says awkwardly, “I guess I should uhm, give you my number? So you can text me about info tonight.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Here.” Blaine gives Kurt his phone so Kurt can program his number into it. Afterwards he stands there staring at Kurt, shifting from foot to foot, not exactly sure what to do next.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight,” Kurt says.

“Yeah. I’ll, uh, text you. So you have my number.” Blaine waves his phone in the air, demonstrating that he does indeed have a phone and it does indeed have Kurt’s number programmed into it.

They walk away from each other, and when Kurt gets back to his dorm he finds that he has a text from Blaine saying, _hey. hi. This is Blaine. Blaine Garland? I’m sure you remember me. I’m Judy’s daughter. Anyway, just let me know about tonight!_

Kurt laughs and throws his phone on his bed before heading up to Sammi’s room to gossip with her about her latest fling, who she has slept with three times so far and will hopefully be sleeping with a fourth time tonight.

* * *

 

                “Alright, Blaine Garland, you ready to get this show on the road?” Kurt asks when he meets Blaine at the corner of Yard and Pritchett.

                “Absolutely. Here, I got this for you.” Blaine hands Kurt a small bottle of wine, perfect for one person to sip throughout the entire night to stay drunk.

                “Blaine, you didn’t have to do that.” Kurt takes the bottle and looks at it, before smiling at Blaine.

                “I wanted to. You’re taking me to a friend’s party! You’re responsible for me tonight. Thought I might as well give you something in return.”

                “You make it sound as if I’m babysitting you,” Kurt laughs, walking down the street and towards Mark’s place.

                “You mean you’re not?”

                “No. You’ll have to find another babysitter. I stay away from celebrity children. I hear they’re bratty.”

                “What If I promise you I’m not bratty?” Blaine inquires, looping his arm with Kurt’s.

                Kurt startles at the unexpected physical contact, and it takes all his effort to continue walking instead of stopping and staring at how their arms interlace.

                When he realizes that he just created an awkward moment, Blaine removes arm from Kurt’s and bows his head. They keep walking, the silence stretching between them, before Kurt interrupts it.

                “His place is this way,” he nods down a street.

                Blaine follows slightly behind him, one hand in his pocket and his other holding his 40 of Miller High Life. When they get to the party Kurt walks right in and heads towards the kitchen, Blaine following behind him, looking around at the surroundings as if he’s lost in another world and doesn’t understand what anything is.

                After popping the cork, Kurt walks towards the living room. It’s past eleven and the party is in full gear. People are littered everywhere, and they have to squeeze through the crowd in order to make their way to the corner near the couches. Blaine grabs onto Kurt’s back belt loop, right above his butt, so they won’t get separated. The humid atmosphere, the closeness of the party-goers, and Blaine’s constant pull to the back of his pants leaves Kurt feeling overwhelmed and in need of air. So instead of stopping by the couches he continues onwards, through the sliding glass door that leads to the second floor balcony. Most of the people out there are smoking cigarettes or weed, but Kurt doesn’t care. He just needs some fresh air.

                He moves to the corner of the deck and takes a long swig of his wine. Blaine, whose finger is still attached to the back of Kurt’s pants, lets go when he feels Kurt try and angle his body towards Blaine’s. Not knowing what to do next, Blaine takes a bottle opener out of his pants pocket and pops his bottle cap so he can start to drink.

                “Kurt. Can we talk?” Blaine interrupts. He seems really hesitant, his face guarded.

                Kurt doesn’t really want to get into anything right now. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but he knows he feels weird, and he doesn’t know why. He thinks it might just be the atmosphere: too many people in a too small building, sweating and dancing and singing and laughing and talking and moving and Kurt just really needs to take a deep breath and calm down. It’s sensory overload, but Kurt needs to get over that.

                So he takes another deep gulp of his wine, shakes his head back and forth, trying to get rid of his anxiousness, and looks at Blaine with an incredibly obvious forced smile.

                “You know what? Let’s dance.”

                He doesn’t even wait for Blaine’s response, just starts walking into the living room. He finds a small niche where he can fit, and when he turns around he realizes that Blaine didn’t follow him. He doesn’t care though, is actually a bit relieved. There’s been an odd tension between the two of them all night, and Kurt’s ready to forget about it. He does this by drowning his sorrows in booze and music.

* * *

 

                They’ve been at the party a little less than an hour and Kurt has finished nearly half his bottle of wine, discarding it on the table that is shoved to the side of the makeshift dance floor so he has both his hands free. He’s found a few of his friends, including Andrea and boy Sam, as Samantha likes to refer to him as, and they’re all just dancing close together.

                Kurt’s completely hammered.

                His eyes are closed and he’s just swaying to the music, not having enough coordination to actually dance. All of the sudden he feels someone encroaching on his space. When the person doesn’t leave, Kurt opens his eyes and sees Jason.

                “Jason! Hey!” Kurt’s really happy to see him. They had fun together last time: dancing and making out. He’s kind of hoping they can do that again tonight. He just really wants to forget that Blaine’s here.

                Jason moves in closer and all of the sudden they’re grinding. Kurt closes his eyes again and gets lost in the beat of the bass and the sensation of sharing his personal space with someone else. He doesn’t realize that Blaine is watching him from the back wall, but when he opens his eyes and they lock gazes, Kurt stares blankly at him.

                Blaine looks upset, that much Kurt can detect. But he just stays against the wall, drinking his 40, and not moving. After a few seconds of staring, Blaine just walks away. Kurt doesn’t follow him, doesn’t even turn his head to see where he goes. He just keeps dancing with Jason.

* * *

 

                He and Jason end up kissing a bit on the dance floor, but something doesn’t feel right. Kurt stopped drinking a bit ago, and while he’s still drunk, he’s sober enough to understand that something feels off. He pushes himself away from Jason and mutters an apology before rushing out to the balcony again.

                He sees Blaine out there alone, still sipping his 40, looking at the stars.

                Kurt goes over to him. He’s not sure why, but his body just takes him there. He stays a careful foot away and leans both elbows on the bannister, taking a deep breath. He rubs his hands against his eyes and over his face, groaning and trying his hardest to sober up, but knowing that it won’t happen.

                “Hey,” Blaine says, seemingly out of nowhere.

                “Hi.” Kurt looks up at Blaine, but Blaine is still looking at the black sky as if it holds all of life’s secrets, but isn’t ready to share them yet.

                “I miss the stars.”

                Kurt looks back at the sky, realizing for the first time that there are none. The sky is completely black, devoid of all light and life and hope. There’s nothing there to wish on, nothing to look at. It’s a vacuum, and the more Kurt looks up at it, the more he feels that it’s sucking away his thoughts and pretenses. He knows he’s not sober, but he suddenly feels incredibly clear minded. As if the night took away all his hang ups.

                They’re silent for a while. Blaine’s still standing ramrod straight, avoiding all contact with Kurt, and Kurt’s still leaning against the railing, dividing his time between looking at the sky and looking at Blaine’s profile.

                For the first time, he notices how good Blaine looks. He’s wearing nice, well-fitted khakis with an Oxford button up tucked in. The blue and white thin horizontal lines show off his trim waist and make him look older than his nineteen or twenty years. He’s still staring at Blaine when Blaine starts to speak again.

                “My friends and I used to drive out to the country on the weekends and just lie out on the ground and watch the stars. I went to a boarding school, but we would just leave on Friday or Saturday nights and skip our curfew, bring some food and games and blankets, and we’d throw mini parties and get togethers in the country, on random farms and parks. It felt so awesome, just being free beneath the stars—beneath the world. There was no one around for miles and we could just _be_. I used to go there alone, too. Or with just one or two other friends. And we’d just lie on the ground and look up at the stars and like…contemplate our lives. When we didn’t feel okay, when there was something wrong. Or even when there was nothing wrong but we just _felt_ wrong. We would just lie on the grass, look at the stars, and _be_. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He laughs a hollow laugh, and Kurt feels the sudden need to disagree with Blaine. To protect him and tell him it’s not ridiculous. He hates that Blaine is laughing at himself. But he doesn’t do anything, and Blaine continues.

                “I miss the stars sometimes. On nights like this. I just really miss the stars.”

                Kurt knows that there are tears in Blaine’s eyes. And he knows that they’ll never fall—that they will just stay locked in this prison that Blaine has created for himself.

                Kurt feels sick, but he knows it’s not because of the alcohol.

* * *

 

                They don’t last much longer at the party. They silently agree to just leave, and Kurt follows Blaine towards the door and out of the house, leaving behind the throng of happy and drunk college students, all dancing and laughing. Kurt wishes that that was how his and Blaine’s night could have gone.

                They stand on the front porch for a second, taking in the cool night’s air and just trying to forget the stress that the night has bestowed upon them.

                “Can I walk you home?” Kurt asks, not sure if Blaine will want him around. He’s still weary of getting in Blaine’s personal space.

                “Yeah. I’d like that.”

                They make their way back to campus and when they reach Yard and Pritchett, where they originally met up that night, Kurt hangs a left.

                “Where are you going? Blaine asks, standing still on the corner.

                “Walking you home,” Kurt replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

                “But I don’t live that way.” His voice is soft and questioning.

                “The frat is this way.” Kurt and Blaine are standing about five feet apart—Blaine on the sidewalk, and Kurt in the middle of the street.

                “I don’t live in the frat, Kurt.” Blaine is looking at Kurt as if they have never met. As if Kurt is this strange creature that does strange things. And it’s in this moment that it really hits Kurt; he doesn’t know anything about Blaine. He knows nothing beyond his life in English class and frat parties. He doesn’t know where Blaine is from, or what his favorite color is, or even his major. They aren’t even Facebook friends. It just makes Kurt even sadder. He feels like he keeps letting Blaine down. He sees Blaine right now, and Blaine’s never seemed so small than he has this entire night.

                Kurt’s thoughts are interrupted by Blaine. “I live in Twig.”

                “Oh. Oh.” He repeats himself. “I live in Peterson.” They are right across the street from each other. All this time Blaine has been right across the street from Kurt. So close, yet so far. Kurt’s always thought that they were from different worlds, and all along they’ve shared a street. It makes him feel hopeful, like maybe there’s still a chance they could go back to normal, and he starts to laugh.

                Laughing the tension away seems like the only thing to do, and he starts walking back to Blaine who just looks like a deer in the headlights. Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm and loops his through it and starts walking down the street. It’s a mirror image to how the night started, but this time Kurt’s the one to initiate contact, and neither of them break away.

                “Uuuhhhh I’m a hot mess tonight, aren’t I?” Kurt laughs. It’s a rhetorical question and he isn’t expecting a response.

                “You and me both,” Blaine whispers, a small smile playing on his face.

                “Can we pretend this all never happened? I don’t know _what_ happened. But it’s just been weird. Call it an alien invasion, I don’t know. But tonight was weird, right?”

                Blaine seems all too eager to agree. “Invasion of the body snatchers,” he says. “I’m totally ready to let it all go and leave it behind us.”

                When they get to Twig Kurt lets go of Blaine and moves to stand right in front of him. Before he can do anything, Blaine leans forward and kisses his cheek.

                “Thanks,” he says. But Kurt’s not sure what he did that’s worth being thanked. Blaine blushes and ducks his head. Giving Kurt one more look, he heads inside, leaving Kurt on the sidewalk, jaw open. Kurt stays there for a second touching his cheek before numbly walking across the street.

                It’s early still, not even one in the morning. He’s not sure if Samantha is home but he’s willing to take a chance. He grabs the elevator to her floor, hand still on his cheek, walks to her door, and knocks.

                She answers in her pajamas.

                “I need to talk to you,” he says.

                She just moves to the side and lets him in.

* * *

 

                Monday is the first time he will see Blaine since their outing on Friday night. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but Kurt’s hoping that things will have returned to normal. They haven’t talked at all since then, which leaves Kurt a bit nervous. But when he walks into English class and sees Blaine smiling up at him and removing his bag from the seat beside him, Kurt knows that things will be okay.

 


	2. Chapter 2

                “So when do you leave?” Blaine asks.

                He and Blaine are sitting in the dining hall, grabbing lunch together. They’re tucked away in a corner so they have as much quiet and privacy as possible.

                “My last final is the thirteenth. I’m leaving the next morning.”

                The last two months have flown by, with him and Blaine becoming close friends. They still go to the occasional few frat parties together, and even a few house parties, but they’ve expanded their extracurricular activities beyond dancing and alcohol. They go to the movies together, to museums, to restaurants. They go shopping together and take walks in different parks. They make fools of themselves on playgrounds, playing The Ground is Lava and Tag. Kurt has loads of guy friends, people to hang out with and pass the time with. But none of them measure up to Blaine.

                “Okay. How many finals do you have?” Blaine asks between bites of a hamburger.

                “I have two finals. The first one is during the semester, in class. The fourth.”

                Blaine perks up at this, grin spreading across his face.

                “Awesome,” he says. “So we can officially spend the last few days partying.”

                “Woooaaah, Tiger. I still have to study for my last final.” The last thing Kurt wants is to fail his psychology class. And to be honest, it’s not a class that comes easy to him. So he knows he’ll have to spend at least some time in the library studying.

                “Of course. But think about it. We can go out that Friday and Saturday. And even Sunday! And then you’ll have a few days afterwards to recover from your epic hangover, take your test, and pack up to leave!” Blaine is waving his hands in front of him, clearly excited about his plan and the opportunity to party with Kurt, and his excitement is palpable. Kurt can’t help but give in.

                “Okay okay. Fine.” He’s trying to hold back his grin, but when he looks up and sees Blaine’s smile still wide open and his eyes gazing at him, Kurt can’t help but flounder, and his smile breaks loose. He shakes his head and blushes a bit. He hates how flustered he gets around Blaine.

                When they get up to clear their plates, Blaine grabs Kurt’s before Kurt has a chance.

                “I got it,” Blaine says. Walking quickly towards the disposal area. Kurt stands and waits at the table for Blaine to come back.

                “So next stop? My dorm. I found this amazingly hysterical satirical movie on the fashion trends of the 80s that you _have_ to see.” He puts his arm around Kurt’s waist and starts to guide him towards the exit.

                It’s taken a while, but Kurt is slowly starting to get used to how touchy feely Blaine is. It’s still something he finds strange, Blaine’s constant need to poke or pat or grab Kurt. But he no longer questions Blaine’s motives or jerks away.

                They make their way back to Blaine’s dorm and relax together on Blaine’s bed. They’re sitting next to each other, shoulders touching and watching the screen that’s on the dresser a few feet in front of them. About an hour into the movie Blaine rests his head on Kurt’s shoulder, snuggling in. Kurt just lets it happen.

* * *

 

                The end of the semester is a blur, and Kurt and Blaine only get to see each other in the library. They both have essays to write and projects to finish and exams to study for, and they hardly have time to fit in an actual meal, yet alone relax and hang out. So it’s a blessing when the semester finally ends on Friday, and they have the entire weekend to just chill out. Finals start that Monday, but Kurt’s final isn’t until Wednesday, so he doesn’t mind spending the weekend partying with Blaine, whose two finals are on Tuesday and Thursday.

                That Friday night they go hard. They go to Blaine’s frat and pregame with the brothers, playing silly drinking games like Kings and beer pong. Blaine has his Big buy him and Kurt a case of Blue Moon, two bottles of cheap wine, and a bottle of vodka. They finish off half the bottle of vodka and six of the Blue Moons just on Friday—not to mention how many Natty Lights they went through.

                Kurt and Blaine spent the entire night together laughing and dancing.

                “Sit! I need to sit!” Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm, pulling him away from the dance floor. He miscalculates his step and slips on the wet floor, almost bringing Blaine down with him. Kurt breaks out into laughter, and Blaine hauls him back up onto his feet.

                “No! No falling!” Blaine’s pouting at Kurt and holding him close, his arms wrapped around his waist.

                “I won’t ever fall again. I promise.” Kurt solemnly swears, placing his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. “Come on. I want to sit.”

                They make their way through the crowd, drunk on booze and happiness and the freedom that comes only with knowing the semester is almost complete. In only a few days they will each be heading to their respective homes for an entire month.

                They meander through the frat before they find the small section littered with dirty couches that are reserved for frat brothers. Blaine heads over to the love seat, whose other cushion is currently being occupied, and flops down unceremoniously, pulling Kurt with him and placing him on his lap.

                Blaine nuzzles his face into Kurt’s back and mutters. “Warm. And soft. You’re so soft.” Blaine’s hands are wrapped around Kurt’s waist still, keeping him secure, and Kurt just giggles.

                “Blaine I am sitting on your lap let me go!” He tries to squirm away, but Blaine isn’t having any of it and he just squeezes Kurt’s side. Kurt lets out a loud squeak and wiggles some more, breaking down into laughter and practically falling off Blaine’s lap and the couch.

                Blaine’s not letting him go that easily, though. “Hey! Get back here, mister.” He pulls Kurt up and places him back on the couch, with Kurt’s legs over Blaine’s laps, so they can look at each other still and talk. Blaine’s hands are on Kurt’s legs, rubbing back and forth across his thigh.

                “This is fun, right?” He asks.

                Kurt just nods and, feeling bold, leans his head forwards and bumps his forehead with Blaine’s. Blaine just grins some more.

                “I’m really happy, Kurt,” he says seriously, as if he is imparting wisdom upon Kurt in his drunken state. “Like really happy. And it’s because of you.”

                Kurt just laughs some more, too drunk to pay attention to what Blaine is implying. And when he looks at Brian, who’s sitting on the other side of the love seat, and all of the guys in chairs scattered around the room, he notices that they are all looking at them with puzzled faces. Some of them are shaking their heads and chuckling, and all of the sudden Kurt feels hot and overcrowded and really, really aware of his surroundings.

                “I have to go,” he says quickly, standing up immediately. He’s shaky on his legs, and Blaine has to grab his hips to steady him. Kurt immediately goes to leave the frat and Blaine goes after him.

                “Where are you going?” Blaine asks when he catches up with Kurt near the bar.

                “I should probably leave, right?”

                “What?! Why?!”

                “Because like…that was weird. People were looking at me.”

                “Huh? Who was?” Blaine’s face contorts. His eyebrows knitted close together as his nose scrunches up.

                “The guys.” Kurt shakes his hands in front of his body, indicating that Blaine should know this already.

                “Oh. I was too busy looking at you.” Kurt groans, because Blaine is so not understanding where he’s coming from. He was just sitting on a boy’s lap! In a frat! He could have gotten killed! Instead of explaining this to Blaine he just goes up to the bar and grabs a beer for himself. He thinks about whether he should grab one for Blaine, but ultimately decides that he might as well. It would give him an excuse to go back to Blaine at least.

                “Come on. Let’s play more beer pong.” Blaine goes to grab Kurt but Kurt stops him.

                “No. I don’t feel like it. Want to dance?” Kurt asks.

                Blaine considers it, mulling it over in his head, before ultimately shimmying right then and there.

                “Not _here_ , Blaine.” Kurt laughs. He shakes his head and grabs Blaine’s hand to pull him towards the dance floor, where they spend the rest of the night dancing with only a few short inches in between them.

* * *

 

                The next afternoon he’s fighting a raging hangover the best way he knows how: beer. He and Samantha are sitting in her dorm room after eating waffles and pancakes at a local diner, sipping on bottles of beer.

                “So how was your night?” She asks him. They pointedly ignored all conversation pertaining to the previous night while at the diner, food being their main priority, not throwing up being their second. But with their headaches, and nausea, having since subsided, Samantha begins digging for information.

                “I slept with Blaine.” Her eyes bug out of her head when she hears this, and she spits the beer out of her mouth.

                “Oh my fucking God no you didn’t!” She puts her beer on the table and gets up from the chair at her desk and walks over to the bed, where Kurt is sitting. “How was it?”

                Kurt’s still playing with the label on his beer bottle when he looks up and sees Sammi’s expression. “What? No! NO! Not like that! Like, _slept_. I woke up, fully clothed, mind you, in his bed.”

                “Oh,” she replies, clearly not as interested now that she knows there was no nudity involved. She heads back over to the chair and sits down, grabbing her beer and taking a long sip, waiting for Kurt to continue.

                “I don’t really know how we ended up there, to be honest. I mean, I live right across the street. So I don’t know why I wouldn’t have just gone home.”

                “Was it awkward?” Samantha asks.

                “No,” Kurt says, surprised at that truth. It wasn’t awkward. They woke up in an extra-long twin bed, with Blaine’s roommate only a few feet away in his own bed. “It actually wasn’t.” He ponders what this means. He assumes it probably _should_ have been awkward. One night stands in general are awkward, and while this wasn’t a one night stand, it was still waking up hungover in some guy’s bed, not remembering how he got there.

                He was lying on his side, between the wall and Blaine, and Blaine was lying on his back. When Kurt woke up his left hand was on Blaine’s stomach. He quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes, willing the headache to go away. Blaine was still asleep, so Kurt quietly hopped over him and onto the floor so he could grab a glass and run to the water fountain to fill it up. He grabbed one for Blaine, too, and when he came back Blaine was rolled onto his side on the middle of the bed.

                “Blaine. Hey, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, trying not to wake up Blaine’s roommate. He looked at the clock and it was only nine in the morning, too early for even him to be awake.

                “Nooooo,” Blaine groaned, pulling the pillow that Kurt used and shoving it on top of his head.

                Kurt just lifted up the corner of it and whispered in Blaine’s ear, “I brought you water. And I know you have ibuprofen somewhere in here.”

                That’s all it took for Blaine to slowly get up. He grabbed his glass of water and chugged it down before pointing out to Kurt where the Advil was kept. They each swallowed two without the help of water before Blaine sighed and said, “What happened last night?”

                “No clue,” Kurt replied. They were each both in the same clothes they wore to the party, and Kurt felt especially disgusting. “I think I’m just gonna….go,” he said. He didn’t want to make Blaine feel uncomfortable by just hopping back into his bed.

                “Huh? What? No. Come on. It’s early.” Blaine moved closer to the wall and lifted up the blankets, inviting Kurt back into the warmth.

                Kurt was too exhausted to think, so he just hopped back in, grateful that Blaine didn’t care, and immediately passed out.

“Hello? Earth to Kurt!” Kurt’s shocked out of his reverie by Sammi’s voice.

                “Oops. Sorry. What did you say?”

                “I said, are you gonna see him again? Before the end of the semester.”

                “Yeah. We’re going out again tonight.” He finishes off the last sip of his beer, finally feeling human.

                Samantha just smirks, and Kurt isn’t quite sure what it means, but he doesn’t feel like waiting around to find out.

                “I’m gonna head back to my room. It’s practically almost dinner time and I am meeting up with Blaine again to eat and pregame.”

                He walks out of the room, passing Samantha as she shakes her head and smiles.

* * *

 

                “So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Kurt asks, sitting down Blaine’s bed. They just got back to Blaine’s dorm after picking up a pizza, neither of them wanting to eat in the dining hall. It’s eight at night and they haven’t exactly discussed what party they are going to go to tonight.

                Blaine hums, placing the pizza on his desk and grabs one of the two bottles of wine his Big bought for him, opening it with the Swiss Army knife he keeps in his pocket. He pours two glasses into mugs, handing Kurt the one that says _#1 Grandpa_ , before fishing out two slices of pizza onto a paper plate to give to Kurt.

                “I love when you serve me,” Kurt says.

                “Then, my friend, I will serve you ‘til the end of time. Or at least until I die an untimely death.” Blaine grabs his own food before telling Kurt to scoot over, and plopping down on the bed next to him. They’re both at either end of the bed, knees crossed pretzel style, facing each other and eating their food.

                “Anyway. Tonight? What’s the deal?” Kurt licks some sauce from his finger, wishing that he had a napkin but too lazy to get up and grab one. Blaine sees Kurt staring longingly at the pile across the room and just shakes his head before getting up to grab them.

                “Thank you,” Kurt says, voice high and full of praise.

                “So tonight,” Blaine continues. “We have a few options: frat, Mark’s, a random house party, or calling our friends and seeing what they’re doing and just following them.”

                Kurt considers these options. While he had a great time at the frat last night, he doesn’t think he wants to go there twice in a row. Mark’s party is always an option, so he keeps that in mind.

                “Definitely not a random house party,” he tells Blaine. “There’s no saying that we’ll actually get in. Or that we’ll actually find one. We could just end up walking around all night and not getting lucky.”

                “Alright. Random party is out.” Blaine takes a huge bite of pizza, swallowing it down with some wine. “Man, this stuff is good.”

                “It’s only good because the only thing you have to compare it to is Franzia,” Kurt retorts. 

                “Hey! How do you know that?! I’ve had wine before.”

                “Slapping the bag, Blaine, does not count as ‘having wine.’” He’s staring at Blaine with his eyebrows raised, trying to make a point. Blaine just grins and leans over to poke Kurt in the side.

                They dissolve into giggles while Kurt tries to scoot back as far as he can to get out of Blaine’s reach, all the while shooing him away.

                “Hey! Hey! You. Back on task!”

                Blaine goes back to his side of the bed and lifts his hands in surrender.

                “Alright. Okay.” He takes another bite of pizza, chewing while he says, “Maybe text Mark? See if he’s having a party tonight. If he is we can go there.”

                Kurt pulls his phone out so he can fire off a text before grabbing the crust of his second piece and eating it first, an odd quirk he picked up when he was a kid. He loves the crust, and sometimes he just doesn’t want to wait to eat it last.

                “Here.” Blaine hands him his two crusts before getting off the bed and grabbing them each one more slice of pizza and refilling their mugs with wine.

                “Thanks!” Kurt checks his phone after he feels is vibrating. Leaning against the wall near the head of the bed and kicking his legs out in front of him, he reads the text. When Blaine comes back he moves Kurt’s legs up so he can slide under them and sit closer to him, putting them back on top of his lap—a position they’ve been in many a time.

                When Blaine puts his plate on top of Kurt’s legs, Kurt warns, “Don’t get pizza grease on my jeans.”

                “I won’t. I promise.”

                “Bad news though. Apparently Mark is not having a party tonight. Well, his roommate is. The hipster one. Mark and Tom are going to a different friend’s place. They said we could go, though.”  Kurt places his phone to the side while he starts eating his third, and last, slice of pizza.

                “Hmmm…” Blaine’s one arm is still placed over Kurt’s legs, a constant reminder that Blaine is there. “So Mark’s place is obviously out. Do we want to go to a random party with them?”

                Kurt considers it, mulling it around in his head, lolling his head back and forth.

                “I don’t know. I mean, it could be fun. We could meet new people. And I’m sure I’d know a few people there anyway. But it could also be a complete dud with just a few people hanging around. Mark didn’t say ‘party.’ What do you want?”

                “I don’t know. Your choice, my friend.” He pats Kurt’s legs to emphasize his point. “It’s either the frat or this.”

                Kurt thinks about it for a second before groaning and covering his face with the crook of his arm. “I can’t believe I am actually saying this. But I think we should just go to the frat.”

                Blaine smiles a shy little smile, and when Kurt removes his arm from his face and looks at Blaine, Blaine shakes Kurt’s legs a bit with his hand. “You like my frat?” He asks, his voice getting higher and hopeful at the end.

                “I don’t _hate_ your frat.” Kurt’s cheeks blush, and he hopes that Blaine doesn’t see. The thing is, Kurt actually doesn’t mind Blaine’s frat anymore. More often than not he has an awesome time there. Still, it’s not his _favorite_ place to go, but he finally thinks he understands why so many people want to join Greek life. Kurt actually feels _accepted_ there. Like he’s just one of the crowd instead of just standing out.

                Blaine smiles again, face turned down towards Kurt’s legs, where his hand is still caressing back and forth. When he looks back up at Kurt, Kurt’s breath stops short. Blaine looks so good like this. So bashful and shy and cute. Kurt hardly hears it when Blaine announces, barely above a whisper, “Tonight’s going to be a lot of fun.”

* * *

 

                Blaine’s right. Tonight _is_ a lot of fun. Even more fun than the night before. There’s an insane bracket of beer pong going and for the first time ever, he and Blaine have won two rounds…in a row. He has spent the whole night hanging out with the brothers and joking with them and laughing with them, even high fiving and hugging a few after making really great shots.

                “I’m gonna go grab us two more beers,” Kurt says into Blaine’s ear. Blaine’s hands immediately go to his hips when Kurt leans in, and he nods his head, giving Kurt’s sides a quick squeeze.

                Kurt walks out of the beer pong room and towards the bar. There are a few people in front of him, mostly girls, waiting to get something to drink, so he patiently waits his turn. He’s been to these parties enough times to know that all the pledges and brothers know who he is and will give him booze, so he doesn’t mind waiting patiently.

                While he’s waiting he looks around the room and his eye catches onto someone about a dozen feet away walking towards him with a few girls. The man is tall, probably Kurt’s height if not an inch or two taller, and lean. He’s wearing a plain, pale yellow t-shirt with straight legged pants, and he’s staring at Kurt. When he sees Kurt look him in the eye, he blushes and looks down, but keeps walking with his friends.

                When he passes he gives Kurt a small smile, and Kurt just smirks back, looking the man up and down.

                _Finally_ , he thinks. _A gay guy at a frat party. A good looking one, too._

                He’s excited at the possibility of perhaps hooking up with someone. Or having a dance partner for the night that isn’t a straight brother.

                “C’mon, man! Just give me a beer!”

                Kurt looks in front of him after hearing an angry moan. It is coming from a short, stocky guy who is waving his hands in the air.

                “Seriously! Just one fucking beer.”

                The pledge looks at him and says no, telling him to just leave and come back later. The guy clearly isn’t listening, because he just stays there while Kurt walks around him and up to the bar.

                “Hey Kurt,” one of the pledges says, handing him two iced cold Natty Lights. He’s about to grab them and leave when he hears the man protesting again.

                “Oh. So you’ll hand out beers to the faggot but not to anyone else.” Kurt pauses, frozen on the spot with a beer in each of his hands. His eyes are wide open, and his mouth has fallen into an ‘o’ shape. He’s not sure what to do, and he’s never been so embarrassed. His sexuality has never come into the spotlight while at the frat, and he’s not sure what’s going to happen next. He’s about to just put the beers down and leave when he hears the angry voice of the pledge behind the bar.

“Out. Get out.” One of the guys runs out of the bar and across the room to whisper something in a few guys’ ears. Five of them walk towards the bar, while the pledge that got them walks towards the beer pong room. Everyone is still talking and dancing, not realizing what is going on. And for this, Kurt is grateful. He doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. As a matter of fact, he really just wants to walk away and crawl under his blankets in his bed.

When the five guys get to the bar, the disgruntled man just groans again.

                “Really?” He says. “You’re seriously going to kick me out? I just wanted a fucking beer, man!”

                One of the frat brothers looks at him, eyes dark and serious, and says, “You have three seconds to get out of here before we escort you out ourselves.”

                The guy clearly doesn’t understand the gravity of these words, because he just laughs like this is the funniest and stupidest thing that has never happened and goes to walk away to the dance floor. He’s stopped when one of the brothers grabs his arm and starts to push him towards the exit.

                The next thing Kurt feels is a hand lightly touching his lower back. He looks to his side and sees Blaine.

                “You okay?” He asks quietly.

                Kurt just nods. He’s feeling completely embarrassed as he watches this guy get literally thrown out of a frat, and he can’t help but feel like it never should have happened. That he should have just walked away from the bar and avoided the guy so that they could both be at the party.

                “You want to go back and play pong?” Blaine asks, looking a bit concerned.

                Kurt just looks down at the ground before looking back up towards the exit. “I think I’m just gonna….go,” he decides.

                _Yeah. Going home sounds good right about now,_ he thinks, as he sees the pledges behind the bar looking at him.

                “I’ll come with,” Blaine says. Already guiding Kurt towards the door.

Kurt stops him, turning to look at him before saying, “No, Blaine. You don’t have to. Stay and enjoy the rest of your night.”

Kurt expects this to be enough to convince Blaine to stay. After all, Kurt’s only going to go back to his place and sulk. Why would Blaine choose that over a party?

That’s why he’s surprised when Blaine looks him straight in the eyes and says, slowly, as if speaking to a wounded animal, “Kurt. If you think for a second that I am going to let you leave here alone, then you really don’t know me. I’m coming with. Now—would you prefer to go to your place or mine?”

Kurt thinks about this for a second, mulling over the fact that apparently Blaine isn’t going to just leave him high and dry. He knows that if he goes to Blaine’s dorm then chances are he’ll have to face Blaine’s roommate, which normally he wouldn’t care about, but right now he’s not too keen on being with people he doesn’t know. Mike, his roommate, didn’t have any finals, so he already left for home.

“My place,” he says with certainty.

He and Blaine walk upstairs to one of Blaine’s brothers’ rooms so they can grab their winter coats, which they stowed up there for safekeeping, before heading out. Blaine has kept his hand in contact with Kurt’s body ever since the mishap, and Kurt finds it rather soothing and grounding. He’s glad that Blaine doesn’t care that he’s gay.

They separate for a few seconds so they can put their coats on, and afterwards instead of putting his arm on Kurt’s back, he grabs his hand in a loose fist, leading him towards the door and down the stairs. When they get outside it’s a breath of fresh air. It’s cold, but thankfully not windy, and while his one hand is nestled in the pocket of his coat, the other is kept warm in the confines of Blaine’s grip.

It’s about a fifteen or twenty minute walk to his dorm from Frat Row, and once they get far enough away from the frat that they’re the only people in the street, Blaine opens his mouth.

“I’m really sorry about what happened, Kurt.” His voice flows with innocence and hurt, as if it’s something he can personally understand. As if he has been trying so hard to keep Kurt in a safe little bubble and that this is the worst way to pop it.

Kurt just shakes his head, squeezing Blaine’s hand once. “It’s no big deal. It’s not like I haven’t been called worse. And no one even realized what was happening, which was a plus. It’s not like the whole party stopped to stare at me.”

“But still. That never should have happened. It was totally uncalled for.”

“Blaine. I _know_ ,” Kurt says. Of course it’s uncalled for. Of course it never should have happened, he thinks. But that’s the world he lives in. Not everyone is open and accepting, people still use the words gay and faggot instead of stupid. Some people, like the guy tonight, still use those words against him, as if calling Kurt a faggot is the worst and most hurtful thing imaginable. It’s kind of not, though. Kurt’s heard it enough times for him to grow a hard outer shell. And after experiencing it enough times in middle school and high school, he decided to own the word. They can’t use it against him if he doesn’t let it hurt, if he keeps the word in his own arsenal.

“It was just more unexpected than anything. And I wasn’t sure how your brothers would feel,” Kurt continues, trying to form the correct words to get his point across.

“Why would my brothers care about that?” When Blaine talks, Kurt can see his breath in the air.

                That’s too big of a question for Kurt to answer right now. He’s still a bit drunk and he doesn’t feel like getting into a socio-political debate pertaining to why some guys don’t feel comfortable around gay guys and others do. Instead he takes a deep breath, watching it flow out of his mouth, and stretches his neck back, staring up at the sky. Blaine stops and looks up with Kurt, their clasped hands dangling between them.

                “You can see the stars from here,” Kurt whispers. In order to get from the frat to the dorms he and Blaine live in, you have to walk through a fairly unpopulated area. There aren’t any big buildings, and only a few small businesses that close down early. It’s one of the few places on their campus where you can see the stars.

                “Yeah,” Blaine sighs. “You can.” He laces his fingers with Kurt’s, and grips on a little bit tighter. Kurt has the feeling that it’s his way of apologizing for the whole night. But Kurt doesn’t think Blaine needs to apologize. You can’t really apologize for the world and the things that are wrong with it. He gives Blaine’s hand another squeeze back—his way of letting Blaine know that he’s forgiven. Blaine looks down at their intertwined hands before looking up at Kurt. When Kurt turns his head he sees the corner of Blaine’s mouth has turned up into a sad yet hopeful smile. Kurt returns it, knocking his forehead against Blaine’s.

                They’re standing close. No closer than they normally stand; just a few small inches in between them. They’re still looking at each other when they separate, and Kurt sees Blaine’s gaze flicker down for a second before coming back up. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what he was looking at, because the next thing he knows, Blaine’s other hand is on his cheek, his thumb caressing back and forth.

                Kurt’s not sure what’s going on, but he feels rather than sees Blaine lean forward slowly, their lips connecting in a soft, sweet kiss. It last a few seconds, and when Blaine pulls back he smiles sweetly at Kurt, hand still on his cheek, and Kurt just stands there stock still, face impassive, not at all sure what to do next. He isn’t normally kissed by his straight guy friends, and by ‘normally’ he means never.

                Blaine eventually removes his hand from Kurt’s face and tugs Kurt forward a bit, and they continue their walk to Kurt’s place.

                When they get there, Kurt gracefully removes his clammy hand from Blaine’s so he can take his student ID out of his wallet and swipe them in. He keeps the ID in his hand when they get to the elevator, and eventually swipes them into his room. They stand there, in the center of the empty dorm. Blaine’s looking at Kurt and Kurt’s looking anywhere except at Blaine. Because looking at Blaine is dangerous. Because looking at Blaine makes his stomach swoop a bit, in a really good and not-so-good way. Because Blaine is supposed to be all that’s good in the world. He is the very best of every quality combined: shyness, cuteness, acceptance, niceness. He perfectly blends anger and calmness into a concoction that only he can work—his calmness kicking in when his anger reaches its boiling point.

                And now he’s kissed Kurt, and practically shattered the glass window that Kurt’s been looking through. Because straight guys don’t kiss their gay friends. Not unless they’re not so straight. And that just confuses Kurt. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s experiment, least of all Blaine’s. Because Blaine is supposed to be everything good in the world…until he’s not anymore.

                So they stand in the center of the room. There surprisingly isn’t an uncomfortable tension between them, and for the first time in his life Kurt almost wishes there were. He’s not sure what to do next, and he’s caught off guard when Blaine asks, “So, pajamas tonight? Or are you in the mood to have a repeat of last night and sleep in the same clothes we partied in?”

                It’s the last thing Kurt expects Blaine to say, because spending the night with Blaine is the last thing Kurt expects to do tonight. He’s not quite sure how to say this to Blaine, though, so he just nods his head and opens up his pajama drawer. He normally sleeps in just boxers, but tonight that’s not an option. He takes out two pairs of sweats and two t-shirts and hands a set to Blaine, who accepts them with a gracious smile.

                Kurt puts his pajamas on like armor, back turned to Blaine and eyes never straying, and when he finishes, he turns around, happy to find that Blaine is fully dressed and smiling at Kurt. Kurt has to stop himself from telling Blaine he looks good in his clothes.

                “Big spoon or little spoon?” It’s another question Kurt’s not prepared for. Spooning is _definitely_ something he’s not prepared for. And while he doesn’t exactly want to be wrapped up in Blaine’s arms right now, the other option seems even less appealing. He doesn’t want to have to cuddle Blaine or stare at him the rest of the night, so he mutters out, “Little spoon,” and watches as Blaine lifts the blankets to climb in. Kurt follows slowly behind him. Because the beds are so small, he has no choice but to push as far back against Blaine as possible so he won’t fall off the bed. Blaine just lightly wraps one arm over Kurt and kisses his shoulder lightly. Kurt uses the light switch next to his bed to turn the lights off, letting out a giant exhale.

                “I’m really sorry about tonight,” Blaine says. And Kurt’s not sure what he’s apologizing for anymore. For the homophobic asshole at the frat? For the unexpected kiss that sent Kurt into a tailspin? Or for commandeering his dorm room and spending the night?

                “I wish I could make the world a better place,” he continues. “But I can’t.”

                Kurt’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, so he just hums a response, and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 

                He spends the next two days practically living in the library, and he knows Blaine does, too. But they don’t sit together, or anywhere near each other, for that matter. Blaine’s next final exam is on Tuesday, Kurt’s on Wednesday, and they both have to study for them. Kurt uses this as an excuse to not talk to him.

                Sunday morning Kurt woke up first and got out of bed. He got dressed, packed his backpack, and ate a small breakfast. When Blaine finally awoke, Kurt apologetically told him that he had to study. A bleary eyed Blaine responded that, “Shit. I have to, too. Ugh.” He got up, got into his clothes from the night before, and walked across the street back to his dorm, but not before giving Kurt a sweet smile and a quick kiss to his lips.

                Kurt brushed his teeth a second time that morning.

                But it’s now Monday night and the only words he and Blaine have exchanged have been via text message. Blaine’s sent messages asking where he’s sitting, if he wants to grab food, and complaining about how studying sucks, all rife with silly smiley faces and emoticons. Kurt’s responses are always clipped and short, or nonexistent.

                But it’s Monday night, technically Tuesday morning, and Kurt grabs his phone when it buzzes. It’s another text from Blaine, but it’s so much different than the other ones have been.

                _Did I do something wrong?_ Kurt reads. _We haven’t talked since the weekend. I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, Kurt._   _I miss you._

                Kurt just groans, packing his stuff up and leaving the library. He’s not sure what to respond, but something tells him saying, _yeah, you did do something wrong. I’m not gonna be your sexuality crisis_ , isn’t the ideal way to avoid a fight. And he doesn’t want to hurt Blaine’s feelings. He _really_ doesn’t want to. Especially not after such a genuine message like that.

                Kurt just needs time to think. He knows he does. It’s just that the past two days have been really stressful with studying and he hasn’t had time to process anything that happened with Blaine. He doesn’t think he’s ready to see Blaine yet, not before he decides what he’s going to do about the situation. But he reminds himself that in just three short days he’ll be headed home to Lima, Ohio, with a four week vacation where he can break things down and overanalyze as much as he wants.

                So about ten minutes after he receives Blaine’s text, when he’s almost walked all the way back to his dorm, Kurt finally thinks he has formulated the right response and texts back, _Sorry. Just been really stressed with finals._

He immediately receives a text back from Blaine.

                _Can I see you before break? Please?_

                “Ugh,” Kurt groans. Plopping down on his bed. “How am I gonna get out of this one?” He asks the empty room, actually wishing that Mike were here to help him.

                _Don’t you have a final tomorrow?_ He doesn’t know why he says it. He _knows_ Blaine has a final tomorrow. And Blaine knows that his is on Wednesday. But he’s just trying to buy himself some time.

                _After my final. Please. I just want to see you, Kurt._

                He can practically see Blaine’s puppy dog eyes, wide and watering. The last thing Kurt wants to do is be the cause of that look. He remembers it from the first time he took Blaine to Mark’s party. He just looked so sad that entire night, and Kurt doesn’t want to do that to Blaine. He thinks that maybe he’s the one making this whole kiss situation awkward. Maybe he’s overreacting. Blaine certainly didn’t seem to be. And if he were having a sexual identity crisis _wouldn’t_ he be freaking out about it? Kurt thinks. So he falls, and his resolve crumbles.

                _Yeah. Okay. After your final._

                He immediately sends a follow up, _But not for a long time. I’m sorry. But my final is at 11 the next morning and I need to cram more._

                _Absolutely._ Blaine texts back. _Just for a bit. I promise. I can’t wait to see you._ _J_

                _Yeah. You too._ It’s only a partial lie, and Kurt hates that a part of him misses Blaine.

* * *

 

                Sometimes Kurt ends up in sticky situations, and more often than not he doesn’t really know how he got there.

Like that time when he ended up in the mall’s security office in high school, being questioned about stealing a bra. It wasn’t him, but the culprit looked just like him. It was really alarming, an hour later, when the nineteen year old female was caught and Kurt realized, at the tender age of sixteen, that he apparently did look like a woman.

                It happened again when he was eighteen and woke up across State lines after drinking way too much during his first month of college. Lucky for him he was only in the back seat of a friend’s Chevy and not the trunk of a stranger’s van, but it was still exceedingly distressing.

                And it happened again that Tuesday night when he found himself horizontal on Blaine’s bed, his jeans unbuttoned and Blaine’s hand caressing his stomach.

                “Shirt off,” Blaine gasps, leaning down to kiss Kurt’s exposed collarbone. “Can I take your shirt off?”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Kurt replies, moaning when Blaine latches onto his neck, sucking hard.

                Blaine lifts Kurt’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side. Blaine’s shirt follows next, and all Kurt can do is gulp. Blaine is toned. Really, really toned. He doesn’t have a defined six pack, or a baseball sized muscle in his bicep, but he is lean and muscular, with a lovely V-shaped waist disappearing into his jeans.

                “Fuck,” Kurt moans, running his hands along Blaine’s chest. Blaine is straddling Kurt, sitting up, and Kurt tries to force himself into a seated position, too, but it’s too hard and Blaine apparently doesn’t want him to, either, because he pushes Kurt back down and goes back to pressing chaste kisses down the column of his throat. He makes his way to Kurt’s collarbone and chest, and when he passes Kurt’s right nipple he take it between his teeth and licks.

                Kurt moans hard and deep, thrusting his hips up. He can feel Blaine hard through his jeans, and suddenly he wants more than ever to have Blaine take them off, to take everything off, so Kurt can feel his body against his.

                “Off, off.” He has his hands down the back pockets of Blaine’s jeans, and is tugging down. Blaine just chuckles and undoes his button and zipper, pushing them down as much as he can with his limited mobility. He rolls off of Kurt, onto his side, so he can struggle off his jeans. It’s no easy feat, and by the time he gets them off he screams out in victory and throws them to the ground. He’s now seated on top of his knees at the foot of the bed, looking down at Kurt who is still lying down with his jeans on.

                “Can I?” He asks, gesturing to Kurt’s pants. Kurt just nods his head and Blaine slowly reaches out with both hands and plays with the hem of Kurt’s jeans. He slowly, like a child opening up a super important Christmas gift, peels down Kurt’s pants, past his thighs, past his knees, down his calves, until they are completely off and abandoned on the floor.

                “I like your boxers,” Blaine says, smiling. They’re patterned in a blue, white, and black plaid, and clings tight to his crotch and butt. Blaine’s boxers, a similar style, are just plain baby blue.

                Suddenly the air seems electrified. Kurt’s breathing hard as Blaine runs his hands up and down his sides, slowly putting his knee over Kurt’s hips so he can straddle him again. He gives Kurt a lingering kiss, slow and chaste—all lip and no tongue—and Kurt suddenly wonders how the hell he got himself in this position. It’s not something he regrets, but he knows it’s something that he will.

                Blaine’s hands are still massaging his sides, but he’s now gazing at Kurt with curiosity hidden behind his eyes. Kurt knows what he’s asking, what he’s thinking but not saying, and Kurt knows that if things are going to go any further then he needs to be the one who initiates it.

                He takes a deep breath, and takes the plunge.

                Carefully as ever, he moves his hands from his side to his underwear, cautiously pulling them down. Blaine helps take them off all the way, and Kurt then reaches towards Blaine’s, taking them off, too.

                Kurt’s struck by how beautiful Blaine looks like this, breathing shallowly on top of him, eyes sparkling with life and trust, and he wonders why he ever thought that Blaine would take advantage of him. It’s not in Blaine’s genes to take advantage of someone. He still doesn’t want to be Blaine’s dirty little secret or hidden experiment, but he does know that he wants this. Just once. Just once, because he’s horny. Just once, because it’s been so long since he’s had sex with someone who isn’t nameless, someone he has an actual connection with. Just once, because he can see how much Blaine wants this, and Kurt really doesn’t want to turn him down or create an awkward moment in the moment _or_ in their friendship. Just this once, he promises himself, because he’s already swept up into everything, and he really can’t back down now.

                So he leans up to take Blaine’s lip between his teeth and sucks hard before slipping his tongue into Blaine’s mouth. They kiss long and dirty, hips rocking against each other. And when their crotches line up, each boy moans and thrusts harder.

                “So gorgeous,” Blaine mumbles, leaning his head into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Been wanting to do this forever.”

                Kurt tries to ignore the fact that apparently Blaine has been bi-curious for a while and goes back to making out with him, slipping his hands from Blaine’s thighs to his ass and squeezing and kneading. He’s trying to lose himself into the touch and the physicality, how it _feels_ to be this close to Blaine. He closes a blind eye to the emotions of it, not ready to face them yet.

                They thrust against each other a few more times before Blaine comes with a broken moan, still moving and working himself through his orgasm. Kurt’s still hard, and a few moments later Blaine uses his hand, splattered with come he rubbed off of Kurt’s stomach, to grasp Kurt’s dick and pull, jerking him off fast and quick.

                Kurt’s letting off little mewling sounds, eyes barely able to stay open as his toes curl.

                “God you’re gorgeous like this, Kurt.” And just hearing Blaine say his name has Kurt coming all over Blaine’s hand. They’re both breathing heavily when Blaine falls down to the side of Kurt, head resting on Kurt’s shoulder and arm across Kurt’s stomach. After a few minutes Blaine gets up to wash his hands. He brings back a wet paper towel and goes to clean Kurt up, but Kurt grabs his wrist before he can and takes the towel out of Blaine’s hand, shooting him a grateful look.

                He’s not sure what the protocol for this is. He’s not quite sure if it’s a one night stand or not. But before he can worry Blaine turns the light off and hops back on the bed, resuming his position behind Kurt and pulling him into his arms. He leaves a kiss behind Kurt’s ear and heaves out a contented sigh. Kurt just stares in front of him and wonders how, once again, he’s managed to get himself into a situation like this.

* * *

 

                He hears a ringing noise and his eyes slowly open. The noise is muted and Kurt just wants it to stop so he can roll over and go back to sleep. He does just that, rolls over, when he comes face to face with last night’s mistake. That’s when he realizes where he is and what today is.

                “Fuck!” He screams and practically falls out of the bed. He’s completely naked, but he’s too stressed out to care. “Fuck fuck FUUUCKK!”

                He finds his pants on the ground and his phone a few feet away. His alarm has been going off for the past twenty minutes. He set it the day before so he could wake up an hour and a half before his final, effectively giving himself almost an hour of cram time before he had to take the test.

                Blaine lifts his head from the pillow, barely able to open his eyes, and grunts out a garbled, “Huh?”

                “I have to go. I have to go!” Kurt says, walking around the room like a chicken with its head cut off. “Where the fuck is my underwear?!” He finds it on top of Blaine’s microwave and doesn’t even want to know how it got there. He struggles to put his clothes on as fast as he can. His final is in an _hour_. He’s definitely not going to have time to shower. Right now all he wants to do is run back to his room and grab his bookbag that has all of his notes in it and run to the building where his final is so he can start cramming.

                “Where are you going?” Blaine looks entirely confused and a bit put off and uncomfortable, but Kurt really doesn’t care about Blaine’s feelings right now. He has bigger fish to fry.

                “My final is in an _hour!_ ” He screams, shoving his feet in his shoes.

                “Oh shit,” Blaine responds.

                “Yeah, oh shit,” Kurt mocks, perhaps a bit rudely. “I have to run.” And that’s exactly what he does.

                He receives a text message about a half an hour later from Blaine. _Good luck! You’ll do great!_

                Kurt doesn’t bother responding.

* * *

 

                It’s three in the afternoon. Kurt is pretty sure he has failed his final. He’s pretty sure he failed his final and he’s pretty sure he just slept with one of his best guy friends. His bus to Ohio leaves at six in the morning and he still has to pack, which is what he’s doing right now. Or at least trying to do. Really he’s just angrily throwing his clothes around, too frustrated to fold anything. He knows he’ll regret it if he just throws his clothes carelessly into his suitcase, but at this rate that may be what he does.

                It’s three in the afternoon and Kurt pretty much hates himself. He doesn’t hate Blaine, which he thinks he should. But he’s finally come to the conclusion that he really can’t blame anyone for having a sexuality crisis. Hell, he had one, too! His was just ten years earlier.

                He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. He opens it to see the last person he wants to see, but the first person he would have guessed.

                “Blaine,” he says, looking entirely unhappy.

                “Hey. How was the final?” Blaine asks, apparently entirely unaware of Kurt’s mental status right now.

                Kurt doesn’t answer. He just walks back in his room and goes back to throwing his clothes around. Blaine slowly steps in and closes the door softly behind him.

                “I, uh, brought you something,” he utters quietly. When Kurt looks up he sees a small cluster of lilacs that he must have missed before. He almost wants to laugh. _Is Blaine seriously giving me flowers after a one night stand?_

                Blaine just stands there, flowers in his hand, waiting for Kurt to take them. But when he doesn’t, Blaine’s face falls a bit and he puts his hands back down by his side and takes a step back. Kurt’s glaring at him, and by the look on Blaine’s face, Blaine isn’t entirely sure why.

                “I can’t do this, Blaine. I’m sorry. But I can’t.” Kurt turns away from Blaine and starts shoving stuff into his suitcase.

                “Do what?” Blaine asks, confused.

                “ _This_. You. I can’t. I can’t be your experiment, okay? It’s not gonna happen. If you want to be gay with someone then go be gay with someone else.”

                He doesn’t look up at Blaine when he says this, so he misses Blaine’s shocked face. He does, however, hear it when Blaine exclaims, “Be gay with someone? What the fuck does that mean?!” He sounds offended and still entirely confused, but Kurt doesn’t want to look at him. He just wants to finish packing and sleep. He _really_ just wants to go home and forget about this. He doesn’t want to take all of his anger out on Blaine, and he still wants to think about this whole Blaine situation first, so when he and Blaine _do_ talk about it they can do it as adults. But apparently that’s not going to happen, and that just makes Kurt even more frustrated.

                He groans…loudly.

                “It means,” he reiterates, “that if you think you’re gay, or bi, or whatever, and you want to experiment, that you can’t do it with me.” There’s a sense of finality in his tone that he hopes Blaine picks up on.

                He turns around to look at Blaine after speaking, hoping that his icy glare will clue Blaine in to how serious he’s being. But all he sees is Blaine looking crestfallen.

                “Gay experiment? Kurt, seriously?” His voice is soft, causing Kurt to take a deep breath before he responds. If Blaine isn’t yelling at him then he shouldn’t yell at Blaine.

                “Yes, Blaine.” He goes to sit on his bed. Blaine’s still standing by the door, tears threatening to fall in his wide eyes.

                “Kurt, I _am_ gay. I’ve been out since I was fourteen!” He tries to stress his point by throwing his hands out in front of him, flowers still there. He must finally realize that he’s still holding them, because he looks at them like they’re a foreign object before watchfully placing them on Kurt’s desk.

                “Excuse me?” Kurt states. “You’ve been gay this whole time and you didn’t think to maybe tell me?”

                “Tell you? Kurt, I’ve been flirting with you for months! Since the beginning of the semester!” Blaine’s pleading with Kurt to understand.

                “No you have not!” Kurt’s still sitting on his bed. His voice has gone skeptical, because if Blaine were flirting with him he’d have known, right?

                “I was your project partner in English class! I wasn’t even supposed to be working with you and I bribed the professor to put me with you! You get into my frat for free! For God’s sake, Kurt, we _dance_ together! And hold hands! What did you think I was doing?!” Blaine’s actually crying now. Slow tears silently falling down his face.

                Kurt all the sudden feels broken. Like because he broke Blaine that he consequently broke himself as well. All of the anger he felt earlier has completely dissipated after hearing Blaine plead his case.

                “I…I don’t…” Kurt’s not quite sure what to say. He has a headache all of the sudden. He brings his hand up to rub against his forehead, trying to process everything that Blaine just said. But it’s hard. It’s hard to think that maybe he is the one at fault. That Blaine has been nothing but gracious and obvious and polite, and that Kurt was too blind or stubborn to see this. That maybe he just led Blaine on for three months.

                He doesn’t feel well. As a matter of fact, he feels really queasy. He clutches his stomach with one arm and looks up at Blaine who is still standing by the door crying.

                Blaine just shakes his head, tears matting his face, an ugly blush and puffy eyes rounding out his look. He just shakes his head, turns around, and walks out.

                Kurt wasn’t prepared for it, but suddenly he feels tears wet his cheeks, and he realizes that he’s crying.

                He doesn’t whimper or moan—he doesn’t feel like he deserves to. He just put Blaine through three months of hell. Hugging him and dancing with him, but ignoring any and all attempts at actually moving forward in their relationship. He invited Blaine to a party and then danced with another guy! Right in front of Blaine. He feels like the worst sort of prick.

                _I am the worst sort of prick_ , he says to himself.

                He doesn’t move for a long time, but eventually evening sets in and he has to get up and finish packing. He has to wake up at four-thirty in the morning in order to make it to the Megabus stop before six. He folds his clothes and grabs everything else he will need for a month back home before picking up the flowers that Blaine left on his desk. He’s not quite sure what to do with them, whether to keep them or not. He knows they won’t make it through four weeks in his dorm, and he doesn’t particularly want them to decompose and bring in bugs, but he also doesn’t want to throw them in the trash. He’s about to just trash them anyway when he sees a handwritten note inside, written on a small piece of construction paper the size of a business card.

                When Kurt reads the note he cries some more.

                “I really fucked up,” he says to himself, reading over the note again. He opens his wallet and places the message in the front compartment, right in front of his license, so he can keep it safe and always read it. He reads it one more time before closing his wallet and lying on his bed.

_There’s a piece of you in every single second of every single day._

* * *

 

                Home is boring, and Blaine isn’t answering any of his text messages or phone calls. Not that Kurt expects him to, but he still hopes. It hurts that Blaine is ignoring him, but Kurt assumes that he deserves it. After all, he caused Blaine enough pain for the both of them. He deserves to feel some of that, too.

                His father asks him what’s gotten him so down, and Kurt gives him a brief overview, telling him that he thinks he just ruined not only a friendship, but a potential relationship as well, with an amazing and thoughtful guy. His father tells Kurt that he should fight for him, and while Kurt agrees with that sentiment, he’s not quite sure how to go about it. He’s not really one for grand gestures, and he’s not sure if Blaine is either. Instead he sighs and thanks his dad for listening.

                His break isn’t an entire fail, though. He actually has a lot of fun. He hangs out with all of his high school friends that he never gets to see. He shops and cooks and has an amazing Christmas with aunts and uncles and cousins that he didn’t even realize he missed. He goes back to his old job at a thrift store so he can make a few bucks. All in all it’s a really rewarding month. But the entire vacation has a black cloud lurking over it every time he checks his phone and his Facebook and his email, noticing that Blaine still hasn’t responded. He didn’t expect to be given the silent treatment for this long, but it’s not too entirely unexpected. He just hopes that he can still salvage their friendship.

* * *

 

                He heads back to school in mid-January with only one thing on his mind: Blaine. He’s going to get Blaine back. At least he _hopes_ he’s going to get Blaine back. But even if he doesn’t, he’s going to make sure that Blaine knows how entirely sorry he is. That he’s in the wrong, not Blaine. That Blaine did everything right, where it’s Kurt who did everything wrong.

                He doesn’t know Blaine’s schedule anymore, because it’s a start of a new semester and that means new classes. But he does still know where Blaine lives, and where he spends a lot of his free time, and where he parties.

                He’s not sure if going to the frat is the best way to talk to Blaine, and he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t be let in anyway. Blaine’s probably told his brothers all about their argument, and he’s probably been banned forever. So that idea is out. So is just randomly showing up at Blaine’s dorm room. He doesn’t want to force himself on Blaine if Blaine isn’t ready for him. He _wants_ Blaine to want to listen to him. So he starts small.

                He still continues to text Blaine occasionally, but now he’s moved onto letters as well. He writes one every other day and sneaks it under Blaine’s door, hoping that one day soon he’ll walk into his room and accidently step on a letter of his own.

                It never happens.

                But he doesn’t give up. He starts making Blaine mix CDs, decorating the CD and the case with silly drawings and references to their favorite inside jokes. Late nights watching romantic indie comedies from the 80s and 90s has left him thinking that this is the best way to win someone back—music. He’s spent twenty dollars on blank CDs and cases, plus countless hours looking up songs and lyrics so he can give Blaine music that means the most to him—songs he wishes he could sing to Blaine. It’s completely worth it, though, when he gets a text from Blaine two weeks after the start of the semester saying, _You don’t have to do this, you know._

                Kurt almost cries from relief, but from anxiety as well. He doesn’t know if this is Blaine’s way of initiating contact between them or cutting it off completely. He immediately sends back a text telling Blaine how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean to hurt him.

                Blaine just replies, _Stop repeating yourself. I’ve read all your texts and listened to the voicemails._

                Kurt thinks this is good. At least Blaine didn’t just delete them all before reading. He’s not quite sure how to respond, but he assumes honesty is the best possible thing.

                _I miss you Blaine. So much._

                _I miss you too,_ Blaine responds, and Kurt lets out a shaky breath.

                _Can we hang out? I just want to see you_.

                Blaine doesn’t respond to this for a few hours. Kurt spends the time pacing the floor of his dorm room and refusing Mercedes’ invitation to dinner. When he does finally get a response, it’s not at all what he’s expecting or hoping for.

 _No_. Just one simple word, and Kurt’s life crumbles again.

* * *

 

                The next few weeks go by slowly. Kurt and Blaine text occasionally. Nothing more than pleasantries, but at least it’s a step in the right direction. It’s one of the worst winters yet. It snows all the time, usually accumulating. Kurt hates the snow, and he hates the cold, and he hates that their University won’t cancel classes unless there is a tornado. He’s doubtful that they’d even cancel classes then.

                He misses Blaine like crazy, and he knows that Blaine misses him, too. He’s said as much, via text. But he’s also told Kurt that he doesn’t want to particularly see him yet. Not in so many words, though. Instead he just turns down every invitation Kurt extends. It hurts Kurt’s feelings, but with every day he and Blaine text more and talk more over Facebook. So he’s hopeful that very soon they’ll be able to move their friendship back into actual hanging out.

                It’s the middle of February when Kurt gets a text from Mark asking him if he wants to go to a party with him. Kurt has nothing better to do, so he agrees and asks for details.

                _My girlfriend’s best friend is throwing a party_

                He shows up at Mark’s house at nine that night to pregame. He doesn’t particularly want to get too drunk tonight, so he sticks to just sipping on a few beers, coasting on potential to get drunk, but never breaching that barrier.

                The party is in a small house a few miles off campus that this girl shares with a few friends. They have a basement where everyone is dancing, a living room where people can sit and talk and relax, and a spacious backyard that opens up into a field.

                “It’s not all theirs,” Mark says when he sees Kurt gazing longingly through the open back door. “They have a small plot of it. The rest is owned by like, I don’t even know, a farmer? The government? It’s never used though, and we sometimes camp out there. They just pretend it’s theirs anyway. Everyone on this street does.”

                Kurt just nods along and files that information away for later, wondering if he can get away with walking the grounds at night.

                The party is entertaining and there are a surprising number of people jammed into it, considering the small stature of the house. Kurt’s having a bit of fun, but he’s not too sure if he’s completely enjoying himself yet. He laughs at peoples jokes and even throws in a few of his own. But with every couple he sees kissing or holding hands or sharing meaningful looks, he’s reminded of all the things he could be doing with Blaine.

                When he gets up to grab another beer from the kitchen, he’s led to a huge window that overlooks the backyard. There are a few people out there sticking close to the house, clumped in small groups talking or smoking. But what catches his attention is the clear sky and the vast array of stars twinkling in it. It’s much more vibrant than the clearing on campus that he and Blaine have stopped in, and all Kurt can think to do is text Blaine. He’s not sure what to say though, so he keeps his phone in his pocket, recycles his bottle, and heads out the back door, intent on getting lost in the sky.

                The field is completely open, and you can see on for miles into the nothingness. The property line between the houses on the street and the field is pretty obvious because of the difference in grass length—people stop mowing their lawns at the edge of their own property, leaving the field looking choppy and overgrown. While seemingly dead, some of the grass has apparently survived even the toughest of winters. Thankfully it hasn’t snowed in a while, so while even though it’s frigid outside, Kurt at least doesn’t have to worry about getting his feet wet.

                He walks for a while, until it gets dark enough that the lights from the neighborhood are just dim glows. He heads on out in a straight line, not wanting to deviate and get lost.

                _It’s really beautiful outside,_ he thinks, looking up at the sky. He takes a deep breath and just lets it rest in his lungs for a bit before loudly exhaling. He just wants to scream. Scream all his frustrations away. But that would ruin the serenity that he just walked into, and he doesn’t want to take his anger out on the sky.

                He’s contemplating what he should do next when he hears a shuffling noise. He looks around slowly until he spots a dark figure lying on the ground, surrounded by short, dead grass. Kurt slowly walks forward, not sure if it’s the right choice or not, but wanting to scratch the itch that curiosity has left.

                He gets closer, and he knows the person on the ground can hear his footsteps and his breathing, they _have_ to; Kurt’s not at all being subtle and the ground is crunching beneath his feet, echoing in the quiet night. When he’s close enough to see distinguishing features, he lets out a short gasp.

                “Blaine?” He asks. Though it’s not really a question. He knows it’s Blaine, bundled up on the ground and staring up at the sky.

                Kurt takes another step forward until he’s directly in Blaine’s eye sight.

                “What are you doing here?” He says.

                “Would you believe it if I told you Mark and I have a class together?” Blaine looks directly into Kurt’s eyes, and Kurt has never been hit with so much emotion. It’s the first time he’s seen Blaine’s face in two months, and he’s almost forgotten how much he misses those eyes. Kurt, swept up in Blaine’s face, doesn’t say anything, and Blaine continues. “He uh, I guess he doesn’t know about me and you? He told me you were coming to this party—asked if I was going to come, too. I really wanted to see you.”

                Kurt doesn’t know what to say, how to react. He is literally stunned into silence. But once his brain finally catches up to his mouth he’s able to stutter out a quick, “Do you mind?” pointing to the ground next to Blaine.

                “Not at all,” Blaine replies, and Kurt slowly sits down before sprawling out on the hard ground.

                They stare at the sky in silence for a long while, just getting used to breathing next to each other again. It’s not incredibly awkward, but there’s something between them, something that stops them from talking. Kurt’s not sure where to start or what to say. He doesn’t want to scare Blaine off. He’s spent the last few months memorizing what he would say to Blaine if given the chance, and now none of it feels right. So he busies himself with sitting in compatible silence and looking to the sky for answers.

                “See that constellation there?” Kurt points to the sky. “See that bright star there? And the three others around it, that form a square?”

                Blaine nods, eyes intent on the stars above.

                “Okay. Well, coming out of each corner of that box is a line, see? The box represents a body, the two lines up top represent the arms, and the two on the bottom represent legs. Now, it’s hard to find, but the top corner of the left box has _two_ lines coming out of it, and the second one is the head.”

                It’s hard to see, it’s such a complicated constellation, but Blaine seems intent on connecting the dots. After a few seconds he lets out a relieved, “Yeah.”

                “It’s Hercules,” Kurt says, putting his hand down. They stare up at Hercules for a few seconds before Kurt continues on. “He uh, Hercules, he isn’t anything like the Disney movie. We all paint him out to be this strong, good looking hero, but he’s flawed. He’s actually a terrible, terrible person.”

                “How so?” Blaine prods, still looking up at Hercules.

                “He killed his family—his children,” Kurt corrects himself. “He went insane and killed his sons. And in order to redeem himself he had to carry out these tasks. And all we remember about him now are these tasks that he did—all these good deeds. But we always forget, or never even learn, that he’s a murderer.”

                They sit in companionable silence for a bit, ruminating on the story of Hercules. But Kurt can’t hold his tongue any longer than he already has, and he turns his head towards Blaine, so Blaine can hear everything he has to say.

                “I’m _so_ sorry, Blaine. I can’t…I don’t even know. I was such a terrible person. And I thought that I could do all these things, like text you and call you and write you and I don’t even know—send you _music_ and that all of that would make up for the fact that I hurt you. And I just…I know it won’t. But I don’t know what will.”

                “I’m not upset with you anymore,” Blaine says, turning his head towards Kurt. He doesn’t elaborate, and Kurt wants more than anything for him to do just that. But he’s waited two months; he can wait a few more minutes for Blaine to collect his thoughts. They look at each other, eyes never breaking, only blinking occasionally, before Blaine speaks.

                “I was, for a bit. But I got over that. It was just…miscommunication. And I shouldn’t have stopped talking to you for this long. It wasn’t right of me—“

                “—no Blaine. You had every right. I was such an assho—“

                “Can you just…let me finish please?” Blaine begs, tiredness etched into his eyes like a scar. Kurt’s never seen him so forlorn. He nods and gives Blaine his full attention.

                Blaine looks back up at the stars. “I got over it. I was just…embarrassed. I _really_ like you, Kurt. And I thought you liked me, too.” He chokes up a bit, and it takes all of Kurt’s willpower to not place his hand on Blaine’s chest and rub, or to tell him to shush and relax. Blaine takes a breath to compose himself. “And when I found out that you didn’t, that you didn’t even realize I was _gay_ , it just…it _hurt_. And I knew that if I called you back over break, or texted you, or anything, that I would have to face the fact that you _knew_. That you _knew_ that I liked you. That I still do. And it’s _embarrassing_. Everything I did last semester just embarrasses me now.” He sniffles and swallows, and it should disgust Kurt but it doesn’t.

                Kurt’s still looking at Blaine, but suddenly it’s not enough. So he angles his body towards him instead, so now he’s lying on his side in the freezing cold.

                “Blaine.” Blaine doesn’t respond. “Blaine. Please look at me.”

                When Blaine turns his head, not his body, just his head, and looks at Kurt, Kurt can see a few tears left in his eyes. Tears that Blaine refuses to let fall.

                “I still like you, Kurt.” Blaine’s voice is so small and sad, thick with tears and mucus.

                “I really want to be your friend,” Kurt says slowly, making sure Blaine understands. And he can see Blaine swallow back a sob and a few more unshed tears prickle behind his eyes. “I really want to be your _best_ friend,” he distinguishes. Blaine, shocked into silence, just nods, chest quivering with sobs that Kurt knows he won’t let out—not here, not now. Kurt continues, though, before he loses his resolve. He puts his hand on Blaine’s chest, rubbing back and forth, trying to get him to calm down, before he scoots closer to Blaine and whispers, for only Blaine to hear, “And I want to be more, too.”

                He lifts his hand from Blaine’s chest to his cheek, caressing his thumb on Blaine’s cheek bone. Blaine’s eyebrows nearly lift up to his hairline, a few stray tears slipping out and onto his startled face. Kurt doesn’t waste any time though. Doesn’t let Blaine ask for clarification.

                “I’m going to kiss you now,” Kurt says. “Three…two…one.” And he does.

 


End file.
